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» 




THE KNIGHT OF 
THE GOLDEN CHAIN 


BY 

R. D. CHETWODE 

author of JOHN OF STRATHBOURNE 



NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
1898 












THE KNIGHT OF 
THE GOLDEN CHAIN 


BY 

R. D. CHETWODE 

AUTHOR OF JOHN OF STRATHBOURNE 







NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

1898 



t 


15028 


Copyright, 1898, 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. ^ 


All rights reserved. 



TWO COPIES RECEIVED- 


TO 


HENRY GARRARD. 


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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I. — The slaying of Baldwin . 

II. — I SET OUT FOR WINCHESTER 

III. — I AM CAST INTO DUNGEON . 

IV. — Gundulf the Thrall 

V. — We escape from the Wolf 

VI. — A friend in the forest 
VII. — The little maid . 

VIII. — A timely warning 
IX. — Among the outlaws . 

X. — I LOSE the little MAID 

XI.— The Bishop will have none o 

XII. — We march into London . 

XIII. — Henry of Blois turns again 

XIV. — I seek Robert of Gloucester 

XV. — The Bishop’s riddle . 

XVI. — The burning of the convent 

XVII. — I PLIGHT MY TROTH 

XVIII. — Ranulf the Wolf 

XIX. — We lose Oxford . 

XX. — Gundulf returns 

XXI. — The lady escapes 

XXII.— Dame Joan asserts herself 

vii 


me 


PAGE 

I 

• 13 
. 22 
. 31 

• 39 

• 47 

• 55 
. 63 

• 73 

. 84 

• 94 
. 103 
. 114 
. 123 
. 132 
. 138 

. 149 
. 158 
. 167 
. 176 
. 185 

• 193 


viii THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN, 


CHAPTER 

XXIII.— I AM CAPTURED . 

XXIV.— A HUNTING PARTY 

XXV. — In the tower . 

XXVI.— The Countess Adela 
XXVII.— The fate of the Countess 
XXVIII.— I BECOME Lord of Briabois 
XXIX.— The Lady Alionora 
XXX. — A BAD DREAM 
XXXI.— My brother’s secret 
XXXII.— I PLAY THE PRIEST . 
XXXIII.— I RESCUE ELA . 

XXXIV.— My story ends . 


PAGE 
. 201 

. 210 
. 219 
. 230 
. 237 

. 247 
. 254 

. 263 
. 272 
. 284 
. 294 

. 304 


THE KNIGHT 
OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE SLAYING OF BALDWIN. 

I HEARD the sound of voices in fierce quarrel, 
and as, by the aid of my pole, I leaped the dyke 
that separated us, Aylmer suddenly drew dagger 
from sheath, and plunged it into young Baldwin’s 
side. Nay, he did not stop there; in his mad fufy, 
he struck his helpless foe again and again, until I 
wrenched the weapon from his hand and threw it 
far across the marsh. They were foul blows, foully 
given, and Aylmer was my only brother. He was 
all I had. My mother died soon after I was born, 
and when my father fell fighting in Normandy, 
Henry, the first king of that name, gave us in ward- 
ship to Earl Alberic of Wodebrig. 

I could not blame Aylmer overmuch ; I felt 
more pity for him than anger. He was in general 
most peaceful; many a time have I been up in arms 
for trifles at which he would only smile. Folk said 
it was because he was slight of frame and somewhat 
weakly; and though all knew he was no coward, 


2 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

yet was he more able with his head than with his 
hands. But when roused his passion was terrible, 
nothing could stay him; for within his veins there 
flowed the fierce blood of the sea-kings which came 
to us through our grandsire. Happily, these fits of 
passion were as short-lived as they were rare. By 
the time I cast away the knife, his fury was over, 
and he burst into sobs and tears. This also was 
Aylmer’s way, and I waited in gloomy silence until 
it passed. 

For, look you, this was a serious matter indeed. 
Young Baldwin, who now lay dead before us, his 
blood soaking into the wet grass, was no mere 
thrall whose death might be compounded for by 
money. He was of noble blood, the only son of 
his father, and one of the most favoured squires of 
our lord. He and I were enemies of old; and he 
was ever a meddlesome braggart, trying to fasten 
a quarrel on any one weaker than himself. Many 
a cracked crown had he given me, which I did my 
utmost to return; though, as he was the older and 
bigger, he generally came off victor. But this was 
not fair fight, else should I have cared little; it 
would surely bring us great trouble. And even 
while I thought thus, the sharp fit was over, Aylmer 
sat up, and was himself again. 

“Is he dead?” he asked moodily, though in 
truth I think he scarce felt the trouble as I did. 

“ Ay, dead enough. It was a foul blow that 
killed him.” 

“ Maybe; I know naught of how it chanced. 


THE SLAYING OF BALDWIN. 


3 


He chafed and taunted me past endurance; then all 
turned red before my eyes, and I remember nothing 
more/' 

Will that tale content my lord, think you? 
Will it content King Stephen? Be sure if Alberic 
do not satisfy Baldwin's kinsmen, they will carry 
their cry to the King himself, and he is none so 
certain of his throne that he dare withstand them." 

For King Stephen, who, now in the year of 
grace 1139, had been lord of England for near 
upon four years, had little right to reign; all men 
knew that the crown belonged of right to Henry's 
daughter, the Empress Matilda. Yet partly be- 
cause the great barons liked not a woman ruler; 
partly because Stephen was brave and debonair, 
a favourite with all, they chose him for their king, 
and would have none of her whom they called 
Countess of Anjou. 

Aylmer looked at me in some surprise; I was 
not wont to use so many words. 

“ Methinks we have changed places, oh my 
brother," he cried mockingly. “ And what does 
your new-born wisdom counsel me to do?" 

“ There is nothing to be done, save to fly to 
St. Edmund's Convent with the best speed you 
may, before they can lay hands on you." 

“ Take sanctuary as if I were some Saxon vil- 
lein? If that is all you can say, thank you for 
naught; I will take counsel with myself;" and he 
hid his face in his hands. I held my peace; for 
Aylmer was wise beyond his age,- he having at that 


4 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

time some seventeen years, whilst I was a twelve- 
month younger. 

Presently he began slowly: “ You were right 
in one thing just now; Baldwin has many friends 
while we have few, and in this Earl Alberic will 
scarce uphold me. At the least they will fine me 
to the last mark my lands are worth; they will take 
away my lordship; they will strip us bare. Now 
I have no mind to this; therefore, go you straight 
to St. Edmund’s, ask for our uncle the Prior, and 
tell him all. For his sister’s, our mother, sake, he 
will stand our friend; and he is the wisest man in 
all the land. No one has seen us? ” 

Rising, he glanced round warily. The sun had 
disappeared, the sky was grey and lowering, dusk 
was slowly descending upon the dreary marsh ; 
whilst, as if to meet it, every rush-fringed ditch sent 
up a film of misty vapour, which grew thicker each 
minute. Nothing was heard save now and again the 
rustling of a water-rat; nothing was to be seen but 
the dead lad, with wide-open, lack-lustre eyes, the 
blood still slowly oozing from his wounds. 

“ Baldwin did not leave the castle with me,” 
Aylmer continued. 

“ He came out with me,” I interrupted. “ Only 
we quarrelled on the way, as usual, and he turned 
back again.” 

“ Then who is to accuse me? I was trying my 
new hawk, alone save for Adam, my thrall, whom 
I sent home with the bird ere I encountered Bald- 
win. I will go back and sit in hall as if nothing 


THE SLAYING OF BALDWIN. 


5 


had happened, and by the time he is found the 
Prior will have counselled us. Tell my uncle I will 
abide by his word, and will be guided by him in 
all. I fear no man’s wrath, yet would I not have 
our name brought to shame; I would not have men 
know I struck foully. Go not by the road lest 
you should be seen and questioned. Strike with 
pole across the marsh, and you will reach St. Ed- 
mund’s ere nightfall. It will cost you a beating for 
being absent without leave, but that you can put 
up with. Baldwin — a plague on him for giving us 
so much trouble — we must e’en leave as he is; if 
we moved him worse might come of it. Are you 
willing to do this?” 

I am willing enough, as you know — much 
more than this would I do for you.” (I loved my 
brother well, and he was ever my good friend.) 

Best take my knife; it will not do for your belt 
to be empty; if not sunk in the marsh, maybe I 
can find the other as I go.” 

I was always glad afterward that the thought 
of giving Aylmer my knife came from me; for the 
ills that followed were thus of my own doing. 

With that we parted, Aylmer to Wodebrig, I 
to St. Edmund’s Convent to lay the matter before 
our uncle, the Prior. But first I spent some time 
searching for the knife I had cast away. When at 
last I gave it up, the mist had grown so thick I 
could not see a yard before me, and, though I 
made all haste, it was too late. Before I was half 
across, I lost my way, and, finding a dry corner 


6 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

backed with osiers, sat me down to wait until the 
moon should rise. Here, by bad luck, I fell asleep 
till daybreak, and it was long after cock-crow be- 
fore I reached my destination. 

The busy monks had been up and about for 
some time. Matins and the first mass of the day 
had long been sung, and many were the wonder- 
ing looks cast upon my disordered state, for I was 
in sad plight. While wandering in the mist, I had 
fallen many times, my garments were torn and 
caked with mire. I had speech with my uncle as 
soon as possible, and told him all just as it had 
chanced, repeating Aylmer’s message word for 
word. 

The good man listened in silence, though he 
shook his head often and sorrowfully. 

’Tis bad, very bad,” he said, when I had fin- 
ished, “ yet am I not surprised. I often feared 
Aylmer’s fiery temper would bring trouble.” 

“ But Aylmer is gentle as a woman, as you 
know yourself, reverend father, save when he is 
tried too far,” I^cried indignantly. “ And Baldwin 
had ever a vile tongue, though, coward-like, he 
taunted but the weak.” 

My son, we are all gentle until we are tried 
too far,” returned the monk. When the hour of 
temptation comes, we show what we are made of. 
It is a grievous matter indeed, and one that I fear 
will cost you dear. If good King Henry still ruled 
over us, there would be no doubt what course to 
take. Aylmer would confess his faults and make 


THE SLAYING OF BALDWIN. 7 

amends; the King would see that right was done. 
But now that Count Stephen hath the upper hand, 
though' he is a fair man to speak and promised to 
keep the laws of King Edward, every man is a law 
to himself; there is no justice in the land. The 
right of the strongest rules, and Baldwin's friends 
are rich and powerful. Therefore, hath Aylmer 
done well to promise in this to be guided by me, 
and I will do my utmost to help him. I will con- 
sult with my lord Abbot first, who is no friend to 
Baldwin's kin; together we may hit upon a plan. 
Go you now to the cellarer and ask for the pasty 
sent from my lord's table this morning, and a cup 
of small ale; but speak of your errand to no one." 

An hour or so later, when I had eaten my fill 
and made myself more presentable, the Prior came 
to me again, staff in hand, and his skirts looped 
over his elbow ready for travelling. 

“ I am for Wodebrig, my son," he said. 
“ Brother Roger has business that way, and I have 
leave to accompany him. When I return I 
may have news. Meantime keep within convent 
bounds, stray not the length of your foot outside. 
Such are my lord Abbot's orders." 

I marvelled somewhat at this; for I was a fre- 
quent visitor to the convent, and had been wont to 
go in and out as I would; but it was not my place 
to ask questions. Afterward, I understood only 
too well. The two old men had foreseen what in 
truth came to pass. 

The hours fled but slowly, the sun shone, 


g THE KNIGHT OF THE GOI.DEN CHAIN. 

there was a soft breeze just enough to ruffle a lady’s 
locks; it was one of the first spring days of the 
year. I grew tired of being cooped up* within 
bounds, and thought with regret of the merry hunt- 
ing-party I was to have joined that morning, and 
how my hawk on its perch would wonder I came 
not near. Then I remembered that there would 
scarce be hunting that morning, save for the man 
who had slain Baldwin; and I wondered how it 
fared with Aylmer, and what was passing at Wode- 
brig. It was not until near sundown that the Prior 
returned, and, after a long conference with my lord 
Abbot, came to seek me. 

“ Here is a ravelled coil indeed, my son,” he 
began. “ Before I can go one step farther in the 
matter, I must know how far you are minded to 
shield your brother.” 

“ Surely to the utmost limit of my powers, good 
father. You know me well enough for that.” 

“ Even so far as to take his fault upon your- 
,self?” 

“ Even so far as that if needs be,” I answered 
slowly, though I must confess this was not to my 
liking. There was not the excuse for me there 
would have been for Aylmer. 1 was not hot- 
blooded, but slow and deliberate in my actions al- 
ways, so that such a blow from me would be foul 
murder. Yet I took care not to show my thought 
in my face. 

Ah, I knew you would answer thus,” cried 
the Prior joyfully; “ and so I assured my lord Ab- 


THE SLAYING OF BALDWIN. 


9 


bot, telling him you were not the one to fail us. 
And it is but for a time, my son. When this dis- 
tracted land hath quiet, and Aylmer can avow his 
fault, and do penance as he ought, your name shall 
be cleared before all men. Meantime, it will be 
worth something to save your father’s lands. For, 
look you, I tell you — I who know — Reginald of 
Balgham, your ancient enemy, hath had his eye on 
those lands for long. Were Aylmer banished out 
of the land be sure he would take possession. Now, 
you being the younger and thus of no account, he 
can do no harm.” 

‘‘ Do you wish me to avow that I killed Bald- 
win?” 

“ Nay, my son, St. Edmund forbid I should do 
such grievous wrong. Cry yo.ur innocence aloud. 
Lay hold on our holy shrine, and swear it boldly; 
only, if they ask you aught else hold your peace; 
let them find out what they can.” 

That is easy enough,” I answered with glad 
heart, relieved to find it was no more. Nay, why ^ 
should they accuse me at all?” 

“ That has come already,” he answered drily, 
or I should not waste so much breath in counsel. 
Baldwin left the castle in your company; you were 
known to be ever quarrelling; and when his death 
was discovered you alone of all the household were 
missing. He did not fall in fair fight; his knife 
was in his belt, unstained. Men cry aloud that you 
stole upon him by surprise, and fled here to seek 
sanctuary. We feared something of the kind; 


lO THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

therefore, did we charge you not to leave the con- 
vent. A posse of them, headed by Earl Alberic 
in person, is on the way even now to accuse you 
to my lord Abbot, and I hurried forward to give 
you warning. Have no fear, I will stand by you to 
the end. And a word in your ear — my lord Abbot 
is for you, though for appearance sake he may treat 
you somewhat harshly.” 

All came to pass exactly as my uncle the Prior 
forewarned me; for I was loudly accused, and 
scarce a man but believed in my guilt. I defended 
myself all I could, as my uncle counselled, offering 
to sw'ear my innocence upon the sacred shrine, 
where lamps burn ever, night and day. My foes 
agreed to this willingly enough, thinking that at 
the appointed time I should draw back. But some 
two days later, when folk crowded the chapel from 
far and near, I stepped forward after mass had been 
sung, and, placing my right hand upon the shrine, 
where rested relics of the holy saint, called Heaven 
to witness my innocence of Baldwin’s blood. As 
I stood thus alone before them all, Aylmer came to 
my side. 

“ Be silent,” I whispered in haste, seeing he was 
about to speak. “ They can not hurt me; it might 
be death to you. Remember your promise to the 
Prior.” 

“ Then it will be your own doing, he muttered 
gloomily; but, though he heeded my words and 
held his peace, he moved not from his place, and 
kept beside me to the end. Nay, he did more; for 


THE SLAYING OF BALDWIN. 


II 


he stood forward as my oath-helper, which as my 
nearest kinsman was his right, and swore that my 
oath was clean and true. 

When all was over, seeing that men’s faces were 
still turned against me (it was plain that I had taken 
refuge in the convent), I knelt before Earl Alberic, 
my lord, and prayed to be allowed wager of 
battle. 

“ I will prove my innocence with my body,” I 
cried. I will even take up the glove of any man 
who dares to accuse me.” 

Instantly, one Milo Fitz-Henry, near kinsman 
to Baldwin, cast down his gauntlet. 

But my lord sternly forbade me to touch it. 

Nay, if I am too young,” I cried (it was some- 
times forbidden for those under age to take up 
wager of battle), “ sure am I that Heaven will pro- 
vide me a champion. I pray you, my lord, suffer 
me to take it up? ” 

“ Touch it not,” Earl Alberic repeated, turning 
away from me. “ Milo, of your friendship, I pray 
you lift your glove. This is too weighty a matter 
to be adjudged now; let it wait until the father of 
the dead lad returns from over-sea.” Nor would 
he listen to another word, but commanded instant 
preparation to be made for his departure. 

My lord spoke to me but once again, and that 
was when he rode through the convent gate, where 
I knelt bareheaded to see him pass. 

“ You have appealed to Heaven, Alain of To- 
tinge,” he said, “ and to Heaven’s justice I leave 


12 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

you; but come no more to Wodebrig. I have no 
mind for your company.’' 

He shook his rein and rode off, followed by 
all his train. Aylmer rode among them with bowed 
head and trembling lips, his punishment as great 
as mine. He would have confessed all even then, 
but he had vowed to be guided by the Prior, and 
could but keep his word. 


CHAPTER IL 


I SET OUT FOR WINCHESTER. 

After Earl Alberic and his following had 
departed I felt sad at heart, as though already 
an outcast. Baldwin’s father might not return for 
many long months. To be shut up in a convent 
till then would be hard indeed, yet where else could 
I go? What was to become of me? Yet not for 
one moment did I regret what I had done ; it 
would have been worse for Aylmer than for 
me. However, I was not allowed to remain in my 
perplexity for long. Within a short week my uncle 
sought me out, and brought me good tidings. 

“ My son,” he began, “ the worst is over now, 
and right well have you behaved. If Heaven will, 
ere the father of the dead lad returns, there may be 
peace in the land, and justice done. Meantime, 
there are too many of Baldwin’s friends about, who 
might think it no sin to fall upon you. It will be 
best for you to quit the neighbourhood, unless, in- 
deed, you join our brotherhood, as I urged you 
long ago, when I found you would have no patri- 
mony. Here would you be safe, in truth. It is a 
peaceful life, my son, and a holy, and this unhappy 

13 


14 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

land — if Earl Robert brings the Empress from over- 
sea as he threatens — may soon again be torn with 
strife." 

I shook my head. I had no mind to become 
a monk, as I had ever told him. Besides, if hard 
blows were at hand, and I had heard enough at 
Wodebrig to know they were expected, all the more 
reason I should be free to take my share. 

My uncle frowned reprovingly. “Alas! youth 
is ever froward. One day, perchance, you may sigh 
in vain for the refuge you now so thanklessly cast 
aside." 

“ Not thanklessly, good father. Nay, I am 
grateful for your kindness from my heart. But 
Heaven, you know, has not made all men alike. 
I should pine in the cloister like the poor caged 
bird I set free the other day that was beating its 
life out against the bars." 

“ Heaven grant, my son, that, like that bird, you 
may not come back to us with torn plumage and 
broken wing. Brother Ordric had to wring its 
neck this morning. But enough; you must have 
your way; I pray only that your wilfulness be not 
punished. My lord Abbot has already writ a letter 
to Henry of Winchester, brother to Stephen the 
King, entreating him to grant you a place in his 
household. Bear yourself well, and your advance- 
ment is certain. Hush ! not a word 1 " as, starting 
to my feet, I strove to thank him; for Henry of 
Blois, Bishop of Winchester, was second in the 
realm only to the King himself. “ Hush, I say. 


I SET OUT FOR WINCHESTER. 15 

wait until I come to an end. This have I done 
because you have acted well by your brother, but 
it is not to be spoken of to all. There are evil men 
abroad, and it will be well that you leave us some- 
what secretly, that the time of your departure be 
not known. A worthy merchant in the guest- 
house at this moment, is journeying to his home 
in London. He travels with a strong company, 
and has but turned aside to do business with the 
convent. He leaves at daybreak, to-morrow, to 
rejoin his friends. You shall travel in his train. 
He will see you safe to London, and set you on 
the road to Winchester. Come to me in my cell 
after vespers, and I will give you the letter and a 
bag of money to pay your charges. I go even 
now to see about your horse ; and my good uncle 
hurried off intent upon the business. 

This conversation had taken place in the clois- 
ters which at that hour were usually deserted; but 
when, presently, I arose from the stone bench 
whereon I had been seated, and stretched forth my 
arms, weary to death of doing nothing, I was star- 
tled by discovering one of the brothers close beside 
me. He was snugly ensconced in a narrow recess 
behind a pillar, quite hidden from sight until I came 
upon him, fast asleep, his head low sunk upon his 
breast. Had I turned the other way and followed 
my uncle, I had not seen him. 

If he had been awake, he must have heard every 
word that had been spoken, and I wondered whether 
I ought to tell the Prior. Such a thought, how- 


l6 the knight of the golden chain. 

ever, passed quickly as it came; even if he had, 
what mattered it? To be sleeping at such an hour 
and in such a place was clean against rule. Scanty 
fare and many orisons would have been his lot for 
such a breach of discipline. Instead, I shook him 
by the arm, saying: 

Awake, Brother Ordric, awake I say. The 
Prior was here but now. Had he seen you, heavy 
would have been your penance.’' 

The monk opened his eyes, scowled at me, then 
slouched off without a word of thanks, muttering 
something I could not catch. 

Next time I will let you sleep on, good 
Brother,” I cried after him. '' Maybe you will have 
a civil tongue for those who wake you more rough- 
ly.” Then I turned away, and thought no more 
of the matter. 

Had I known then what I found out too late, 
I should not have been so considerate. Brother 
Ordric was in the confidence of my enemies out- 
side, and had already, by making report of the dis- 
ordered condition in which I arrived, done no little 
to turn men against me. Had I warned my uncle, 
as I ought, that his plans had probably been over- 
heard by Brother Ordric, he would have divined 
the truth, and the misfortunes that afterward befell 
me might have been averted. But how should I 
guess there could be such treachery within con- 
vent walls? 

Next morning, whilst it was still dark, I bade 
farewell to my uncle who had been so good to me, 


I SET OUT FOR WINCHESTER. 


17 


and left the convent in company with Walter the 
merchant, a worthy burgher of the City of Lon- 
don. Brother Roger, the cellarer, rode with us at 
first, as the Prior had arranged; but as soon as we 
joined the merchant’s friends he turned back and 
left us. 

At starting we rode as hard as we could — as 
hard, that is, as Brother Roger would suffer us. 
The merchant had but a couple of serving-men with 
him, and the roads were not as in King Henry’s 
days, when men could travel without hindrance. 
We had to pass close under the walls of my old 
home, and since Earl Alberic had enlarged and 
strengthened the castle, he had been wont to sally 
forth and take toll of all merchants passing by. I 
had ever been among the foremost at such times, 
laughing often to see how the chapmen would scat- 
ter at mere sight of us. Now that I was with the 
chapmen myself, the game did not promise to be 
quite so amusing. However, nothing happened 
this time. Either the watchmen were sleepy and 
we were unseen in the dim light, or we were too 
small a party to be worth robbing. We rode by 
without hindrance, and in due time joined Walter’s 
friends. 

There was little further to fear I thought, for 
we formed quite a strong band. Each merchant 
had a following of servants and apprentices, all 
stout fellows well armed; and, besides, they had 
liired a score of archers to protect their goods. 
These were carried on pack-horses, a string of 


l8 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

about fifty, the merchants having been so harassed 
of late, they had joined together to make the jour- 
ney in safety. Cumbered thus, as you may guess, 
our progress was but slow. 

The travellers, as was their wont, beguiled the 
way with lively song and merry tale and converse; 
and when it was found I had some small skill with 
the harp, I took my turn with the rest. Some- 
times I would ride beside Walter of London, and 
he would tell me of the royal city of Winchester, 
whither I was bound. He stood up for London 
stoutly, it being his own town ; but when I put him 
to it, he was obliged to confess it could not compare 
with Winchester. The good man’s account was no 
more than the truth I found after, and his glowing 
words came back to me when I saw fair Win- 
chester a prey to devouring flames. 

For the first week all went well. We jour- 
neyed on in peace, our party being so strong that 
no one cared to interfere with us. But, though 
we knew it not then. Brother Ordric had sent forth 
word that I was of the company, and a well-laid 
plan was already devised for my arrest. 

On the last day that I travelled with the mer- 
chants some of us pushed forward at dusk to find 
a resting-place for the night, the main body fol- 
lowing behind with the goods. Walter of London 
was one, and I, guessing nothing of danger, rode 
by his side. Suddenly our way was barred by four 
horsemen in full armour, who were drawn up 
across our path. They had chosen their post well. 


I SET OUT FOR WINCHESTER. 


19 


where the track made a sharp turn through a 
thicket of beech, so that we rode right into the 
midst of them. We were too startled at first to do 
more than pull up short, so that before drawing 
sword we had time to note how few they were, and 
how they made no motion to attack us. Then one 
who appeared to be their leader, a man of uncom- 
mon size, with the collar of his hauberk drawn up 
to meet the nasal of his helm, so that his face 
could not be seen, came forward and spoke us fair- 
ly, saying in courteous tone: 

Good sirs, do not fear. I have no quarrel 
with you, neither do I seek your goods. I but de- 
mand the person of a murderer who travels in your 
company.'’ 

We are not afraid,” quoth the chief merchant 
stoutly. ‘‘We have too many men at our back, 
not far behind. As for the murderer you speak of, I 
know him not; we be here all good men and true.” 

At this a second knight, also with face con- 
cealed, spurred to the leader’s side, and, saying 
something in a low tone, pointed at me. Instantly 
the first one spoke again. 

“ Nay, there you err, good merchant, for yonder 
he stands,” and he rode up close, as if to seize me. 
“ ’Tis one Alain of Totinge, who hath committed 
foul murder, and in his lord’s name I claim him.” 

But Walter of London thrust himself speedily 
in between us. “ ’Tis false,” he cried* “ I heard of 
the matter at the Convent of St. Edmund. The 
youth has cleared himself by oath, and offered to 


20 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

submit to wager of battle. He is innocent; I have 
my lord Abbot's word for it.” 

“ That may well be,” returned the knight mock- 
ingly, “ seeing that the Abbot is an old man guided 
in all things by the Prior, who in turn is the lad’s 
uncle. It is a good thing, I wot, to have for kins- 
man one who has my lord Abbot’s ear.” Then 
turning to the chief merchant again. “ Bethink you 
now, is it worth while to fall out for such an one 
as this? I came in friendly guise because I deemed 
you honest men, but I have force enough within 
sound of my horn. I have but to blow a blast and 
my men will be with me. Small chance for your 
goods then; if it come to blows we take all.” 

The merchant looked at Walter as if in doubt 
whether he should risk his goods for sake of a 
stranger. “ I know nothing of the youth ; he was 
not placed in my charge,” he said hesitatingly. 
‘‘ Best give him up, I should say, on promise of 
fair trial.” 

But Walter of London resisted stoutly. “ Give 
him up? Not I. He has had fair trial already. 
I was warned he might find enemies on the road. 
Hold you the King’s warrant, sir knight, that you 
ride abroad arresting malefactors so boldly ? ” 

The knight laughed aloud. 

“ Little power has the King over my lands; I 
do not answer to him for my doings. Come, we 
are losing time; give up the boy.” 

“ No, that will I never. Alain, draw, sword and 
defend yourself. Hugh, Benct, Richard, help all of 


I SET OUT FOR WINCHESTER. 


21 


you, to me here! ’’ And he shouted loudly for his 
servants and apprentices, who, alas, with the arch- 
ers, were far behind, guarding the goods. 

It was all over in a very short time; the mer- 
chants did not mean to lose their wares for a chance 
comer. Walter was but a man of small stature, 
and, being advanced in years, somewhat scant of 
breath; yet he fought for me right manfully until 
overpowered by his own friends and pulled down 
from his horse. I seconded him all I could; but 
as soon as the brave Walter fell, there came a buffet 
from behind which knocked me senseless. 


CHAPTER III. 


I AM CAST INTO DUNGEON. 

When I recovered consciousness I was far away 
from the scene of strife, bound hand and foot, and 
thrown across a horse, face downward. My cap- 
tors rode at a good pace. If I tried to move, a 
sharp prick from a dagger soon made me still. 
They kept on thus for an hour or more, when they 
turned aside from the main track, and, alighting in 
a wood, cast me to the ground like a log. By the 
time the swimming in my head had somewhat sub- 
sided, they were spread about at their ease, laugh- 
ing and jesting noisily. I soon found out that the 
cause of their mirth was the ease with which they 
had taken me. There were but four of them in all, 
and their pretended force hard by had been but 
a ruse to frighten the merchants. It seemed to 
tickle their fancy, so that they laughed loud and 
long. 

After a time the second knight — he who had 
pointed me out — arose and came over to where I 
lay. Now that his collar was dropped, I knew him 

well knew him for Milo, kinsman of the dead 

Baldwin, he who had cast down his glove. He was 


22 


I AM CAST INTO DUNGEON. 


23 

not laughing now, but regarded me sternly enough 
as he said: 

“ How goes it, Alain of Totinge? You have 
scarce escaped so easily as you thought/' 

“Unbind me — let me loose! " I muttered hoarse- 
ly, my throat so parched that I could scarcely speak. 
“ When my lord Abbot knows of this, it will be 
the worse for you.” 

“ And who is to tell my lord Abbot? ” 

“ Walter the merchant without doubt — he under 
whose protection I was placed.” 

“ Not he; he values his own hide far too highly 
to ride back alone, and sure am I none of his fel- 
lows will turn with him. Even if perchance my 
lord Abbot doth come to hear of your misadven- 
ture, where are they to look for you? Not in the 
castle of Ranulf Fitz-Dru — Ranulf the Wolf — you 
have heard of him maybe — what has he to do with 
feud of mine? Yet he is my very good friend, and 
for love of me will hold you fast until Count Bald- 
win comes from over the sea. As for me, I return 
to my own lands even now ; if any man question me 
I know naught.” 

“Why do you persecute me thus?” I cried. 
“ Have I not offered to maintain my innocence in 

the lists? Have I not sworn ” 

“ Ay, perjured one, you have sworn,” he inter- 
rupted, “ though in truth it seems strange one so 
young should be so hardened. But whilst you 
were perjuring yourself. Heaven brought the truth 
to light; we found the blood-stained dagger in the 


24 the knight of the golden CH4IN. 

marsh. It was yours or Aylmer’s; and we soon 
found that whereas Aylmer wore his in his belt that 
night, you reached the convent without one.” 

“And Aylmer knew of this?” I exclaimed. 

“ That were hardly likely, unless we had wanted 
him to give you warning. Neither did we tell the 
good fathers, lest perchance they might juggle you 
out of reach. I took my own measures. I mean 
not my kinsman’s blood to go unavenged.” And 
with that he turned on his heel, and, after some 
parting words with his friend, rode away alone. 

The others, Ranulf the Wolf— so called because 
a wolf’s head was usually depicted upon his shield, 
matching his pitiless ferocity — and his two retainers 
did not stir until after dusk, the better, I suppose, 
to escape notice. Then I was lifted to horse as 
before, still bound hand and foot, so that I could 
make no movement to help myself. And thus we 
rode all through the night, meeting none to stay 
us. My foes had laid their plans well; there was 
no one to tell tales, for no one saw us ; it would be 
difficult indeed for my friends to find out what had 
become of me. 

After cock-crow we arrived at our destination, a 
castle but lately built, stronger than any I had ever 
seen. The moat was wide and deep, the keep more 
massive even than usual, the walls well guarded. 
My heart sank within me. I foresaw small hope 
for those imprisoned there. 

They cast loose my bonds in the inner court- 
yard, and I fell like a stone, for my limbs were too 


I AM CAST INTO DUNGEON. 


25 


numbed to support me. Ranulf the Wolf laughed 
loudly, crying as my head struck the ground: “ Up 
with him, up with him; his fair pastime to see the 
fool fall ” ; and the churls and horse-boys crowded 
round to share their lord’s coarse merriment. 
Three times they raised me, and each time I fell; 
then I struck my head harder than before and all 
became a blank. 

When next I opened my eyes I was in a foul 
dungeon, with irons on hands and feet, and a heavy 
chain about my waist, fastened to a staple in the 
wall. It was indeed a vile den, sunk deep below 
the level of the soil, its low-arched roof and stone 
w^alls dripping over with perpetual damp. Worse 
still, the place swarmed with loathsome life. I put 
out my hand — it fell upon a bloated toad; speckled 
newts and slimy slugs hid beneath the uneven 
stones; and at the clanking of my chain when I 
strove to rise, there was a rush and scurry; I had 
disturbed a family of rats. The only light, just 
enough to make darkness visible, came through a 
narrow slit high up in the wall toward the moat; 
and when the w^ater rose it would trickle in so fast 
that I was flooded to the knees. It was too vile 
a hole for the meanest churl, the lowest malefactor; 
to thrust me therein, a Norman born, was wrong 
unspeakable. In my fury I shouted at the top of 
my voice, hoping some one would come, if only to 
silence me. Had I been calm enough to reflect, I 
should have spared myself the trouble. That deep 
vault had too often resounded with louder cries 
3 


26 the knight of the golden chain. 

than mine — cries drawn from strong men in agony ; 
but no echo of their lamentations ever reached the 
upper air. In my rage I recked not of this, and 
shouted until my voice failed me. 

In the deep silence that succeeded — when hoarse 
and faint I leant against the wall, half choked by 
the clammy air and foul odours — I was suddenly 
startled by the sound of a deep groan. I could 
have sworn I was alone; for I had looked and felt 
all around as far as I could reach when I first re- 
covered consciousness. Now, with eyes more ac- 
customed to the dim light, I peered again into 
every corner, and still I could discover nothing. 
It was fancy, a trick, my eyes had played me false. 
Perchance it was but the reverberating echo of my 
own complainings. Then the groan was repeated, 
so hollow, so une.arthly — more horrible still, so very 
near to me — that I shook with terror; my limbs re- 
fused to support me, I sank on my knees a very 
craven. I was not afraid of man, but I did fear 
to be the sport of demons, and I felt sure that I 
was surrounded by the spirits of those who had per- 
ished there unshriven. 

I muttered a prayer to Heaven and to good St. 
Edmund to intercede for me, vowing to sell my 
best falcon as a gift for his shrine if he would but 
help me now. After I had forced my trembling 
fingers to make the sign of holy cross, my terror 
somewhat abated. So much so, indeed, that when 
the dismal sound came again, as it did full soon, I 
called out aloud, “Speak, whatsoever thou art; in 


I AM CAST INTO DUNGEON. 


27 

the name of Heaven and St. Edmund I adjure thee. 
Speak, or depart to thy own place.’’ 

Then followed a long silence, and I rejoiced, 
thinking I had driven the fiend away. But the 
groaning recommenced, and continued with such 
maddening persistence that at last I could do noth- 
ing but await it. Of the worst fear, however, I was 
soon disabused; for, growing more accustomed to 
the sound, I made certain that the voice was cer- 
tainly human. There was some inner dungeon, 
some dark recess to which my sight could not pene- 
trate, holding a prisoner even more unfortunate 
than myself; some wretched villein perhaps who 
had been put to the torture. 

I must have fallen asleep while listening to those 
unearthly groans; for the next I knew it was pitch 
dark, only high up on the wall, exactly opposite 
the window slit, was a faint reflection as of moon- 
light. All was still; my fellow-prisoner was dead 
or sleeping. 

That first night was, I think, the longest I ever 
spent, for the sad, slow hours would not pass. The 
pale ray of moonlight soon faded, and there was 
black darkness that could almost be felt. And ever 
those noisome things crept and crawled, rendering 
forgetfulness impossible. To add to my misery I 
was tormented with consuming thirst, until I longed 
to lick the foul drops that trickled down the walls. 
But it was too horrible; I drew back in disgust and 
eagerly watched where the light would first fall, the 
only means I had of knowing the morn’s arrival. 


28 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN.; 

It came at last, a pale glimmer, a thin streak 
scarcely to be seen, save by one who watched for 
it as I did; and at once I took heart and roused 
myself, clapping my hands and shaking my chains 
to scare my unclean visitants. Surely some one 
must come soon, I thought, for old Nicholas at 
Wodebrig ever fed the prisoners at daybreak. But 
Earl Alberic was a kindly man; more often than 
not his dungeon was empty. The lazy loons at 
this place came not near until nigh noon, when I 
heard the heavy bolts drawn back and the great 
key slowly turned, and there entered two ill-look- 
ing fellows clad in leathern tunics. The elder, who 
had a bunch of keys at his waist, carried a lantern; 
the other bore a basket of cakes of bread and a 
couple of pitchers of water. I clutched hold of one 
of these as he came within reach, and, raising it with 
both hands to my lips, drained it at a draught. 

The fellow drew back at first, thinking I was 
about to attack him, then said scowlingly; “Make 
the most of it, my young lord; it is all you will 
have till to-morrow. Yet you will have enough, 
I warrant, when the floods come. Then, taking a 
hammer from his belt, he tested my chains, whilst 
his comrade held aloft the lantern. 

I knew it was useless to say much to such var- 
lets, yet did I beg of them to carry a message to 
their lord. I w'ould have parleyed with him for 
ransom, or defied him to single combat, for en- 
treating me so roughly. But they answered not a 
word, save that as I grew louder they roughly 


I AM CAST INTO DUNGEON. 29 

bade me stop my prating. When my fetters had 
been tested to their satisfaction, and tightened some- 
what by means of a key, they took the second 
pitcher and half the bread, and disappeared through 
a dark corner I had taken to be wall. Presently I 
heard the elder cry aloud, He is dead at last; see 
how the rats are in a hurry!’' And there was a 
clapping of hands, followed by the scurrying sound 
I had already learned to know so well. 

It was time too,” returned the other. He 
lasted longer than I thought. Had I known, we 
might have brought the mattock and have done 
with it. It would have saved a journey.” 

“ What matter? ” replied the first. ‘‘ To-mor- 
row will do as well. There will be less of him to 
put away — the rats will save us trouble.” And 
they laughed and chuckled until they made my flesh 
creep with their gruesome jests. 

And the bread and the pitcher? ” ^aid one. 

“ Give them to the boy. No need to carry 
them up again.” 

So the dead man’s food was set down by my 
side, and I was left once more to solitude and dark- 
ness. The rats did not trouble me much that day; 
they had more profitable work in hand. I could 
imagine them scampering to and fro, could almost 
in the dead silence hear the crunching of their teeth, 
and tried to turn my mind away. I thought of 
Aylmer, and wondered how long it would be before 
any came to help me. I pictured to myself the 
green fields of Wodebrig, where I was wont to stray 


30 the knight of the golden chain. 

at will; I thought upon my favourite hound, my 
cherished falcon; how long they would look for 
me in vain; until tears streamed down my cheeks 
and my frame shook with sobs. Ah me, how long 
it was before I again saw the blessed light of Heav- 
en! Had I known what was before me, I think 
my heart must have broken. 

I have been told since, what I then found out 
for myself, that the first days in dungeon are al- 
ways the worst. Be the den never so vile, one in 
time grows accustomed to it. It can not but be so, 
else would few live to be released. When my child- 
ish passion passed, I comforted myself by remem- 
bering that Aylmer, my brother, and my good 
uncle, the Prior, would never forsake me. They 
would find out ere long into whose hands I had 
fallen, and would take steps for my release. 


CHAPTER IV. 


GUNDULF THE THRALL. 

The two gaolers returned next day with pick 
and mattock, and, digging a hole not very far from 
my feet, dragged a man’s body forth from the cor- 
ner and flung it in. The earth and stones were 
stamped down again, and all was at an end. After 
that, days came and went until I lost count of time 
— it seemed as if I had dwelt in that dungeon all 
my life. I raged at first, storming at the gaolers 
until they would beat me with their fists; some- 
times, I even tried to dash my head against the wall. 
Later, I fell into a mood of dull apathy, feeling 
nothing, caring for nothing; my senses, I think, 
were slowly leaving me. 

From this gloomy state I was aroused at last 
by the arrival of fresh prisoners — a couple of vil- 
leins, who, having offended their lord, were awarded 
a few weeks of dungeon to bring them to reason; 
but at least it was human companionship, voices 
from the outer world. From them I learned some- 
thing of the disposition of my captor; they spoke 
of him as the most ruthless tyrant in the country 
round. 


31 


32 the knight of the golden chain. 

When our lord King Henry was alive/’ qua- 
vered one, a starved-looking old thrall, with fingers 
all distorted from past torture, “ there was law in 
the land even for the meanest churl. No man 
durst misdo against another in his time; he made 
peace for man and beast. But now these Norman 
robbers deal with us as they list; there is no one 
to say them nay. If you have been without com- 
pany, ’tis because the Wolf has been absent. You 
will have plenty of fellows ere long.” 

The old man was right. Even before he was 
released new victims were brought in, and in no 
long time I saw Ranulf Fitz-Dru himself. He 
came down into the dungeon to superintend the 
torture of an unhappy villein whom he suspected of 
trying to deceive him. A knotted string was 
wound about the man’s head, and tied and twisted 
until his eyes started from their sockets, whilst he 
writhed and howled in agony. When all was over, 
and the miserable wretch, dead or dying, was flung 
to one side, Ranulf turned to me. 

‘‘ And how like you your lodgings, young sir? 
Scarce so soft, I doubt, as convent cell?” 

Had he come to me when I was first impris- 
oned, I might have paid him back scorn for scorn, 
threatening him with dire vengeance in time to 
come. But now my spirit was all broken, and, 
kneeling at his feet, I craved, with sobs, for mercy. 
He laughed, and seemed amused, and drew me on, 
pretending to heed me; then roughly spurned me 
with his foot, and passed out. 


gundulf the thrall. 


33 


Ranulf did not come again for some time; but 
he continued to give his wicked orders, and a mer- 
chant suspected of stealing money was tied up by 
his thumbs with a slow fire beneath his feet. As 
he cried to Heaven in his torture for the mercy 
that men denied him, a Saxon archer a sturdy 
fellow loaded with chains so heavy it was much as 
both gaolers could do together to lift them cried 
aloud : 

“ You may spare your breath, good friend, to 
cool your burning limbs. Know you not that 
Christ and His saints are sleeping? Shout your 
utmost; they wdll not hear, else had the Wolf long 
ago perished in torment.” He would have said 
more (he was a fearless varlet), but a burning brand 
thrust into his mouth compelled him to silence. 

The scenes I witnessed in that dungeon dwelt 
with me long, and often did I vow that if kind 
Heaven would but set me free I would ever be mer- 
ciful to prisoners. 

Days, weeks, months dragged themselves slowly 
along, though only by the lengthening and short- 
ening of that slender ray of light could I guess the 
seasons. Summer’s heat, winter’s snow, made little 
difference j we shivered in summer, we were scarce 
colder in winter; only, it was dark longer, and that 
was how we knew. I had lost all count of time, 
lost even hope of deliverance. Aylmer, my uncle, 
all, had forgotten me; they had left me to perish. 

’how I lived through it I can scarce now tell; 
I think it was because, even in that awful place, I 


34 the knight of the golden chain. 

found a friend. They brought in one day a Saxon 
bondman, a mean thrall, yet a stout knave of not- 
able strength, who, after enduring great torture 
without flinching, had been cast in a corner to die. 
Instead of dying, however, he lingered on, and 
though he could never be as sound a man again, 
his strength in some measure came back to him. 
He was within reach of my chain, so that I was 
able to aid him; to hold a cup of water to his 
parched lips when athirst; to drive away the hun- 
gry rats when they attacked him. As he grew bet- 
ter he told me his offence, how that by accident 
he had killed his lord’s favourite hound, and then 
had fled to the woods for safety. After hiding there 
for a time he had sought tidings of his wife, and, 
venturing too near his old home, had been cap- 
tured and brought to the castle, to be used as I 
had seen. Truly it was a great fault to kill a good 
hound, yet, seeing it was done by misadventure, 
methought the punishment too severe for the of- 
fence. 

For long, I expected my new companion to die 
every day, then, as he slowly mended, we became 
in dumb fashion — for misery makes a man chary 
of his words — comrades, nay friends. He helped to 
keep life in me, I am sure. I did not feel so aban- 
doned when Gundulf the thrall was beside me. He 
could not stand upright, but lay always close to my 
feet; I had but to put out my hand to touch him. 
Fortunately, although we spoke always Norman- 
French at Wodebrig, I knew the Saxon speech 


GUNDULF THE THRALL. 


35 


well, so well, indeed, that Baldwin had been wont 
to jeer at me as no true Norman. When my mother 
died I had been given to a Saxon woman to nurse; 
it was from her lips I learned it; and it stood me in 
good stead now. I had been a prisoner in that 
vile dungeon for hard upon two years, when we be- 
came aware of unusual festivities going forward in 
the castle. No sound penetrated to our remote 
depths, but when, as oft happened, some of the 
prisoners were dragged above to afford sport to 
the lord after supper, they brought word down that 
the Wolfs son had taken a wife, and there was 
much feasting and merriment. Thrice they were 
sent for, and the third time they came back no 
more; Gundulf and I were alone. 

I had been spared such indignity so far, per- 
chance lest tidings of my imprisonment should be 
spread abroad; but on the last evening of the fes- 
tivities, Ranulfs heart being uplifted with wine, he 
sent for me. My chain was unfastened, the fetters 
unlocked from my feet, though my hands were still 
left shackled; and, blinking like an owl at the un- 
accustomed light, I was led into the hall. The 
guests were at their cups, merry with drink, even 
to the youngest squire; for the Norman nobles, 
once so temperate, soon learned to drink deep as 
the Saxons. Yet they had not swallowed enough 
to drown their senses, and they mocked and tor- 
mented me grievously. Had my hands been free 
I would have made some of them eat their words, 
had I died for it. As it was, I cried on them for 


36 the knight of the golden chain. 

cowards and nidering Saxons, the greatest insult I 
could lay my tongue to; also did I proclaim my 
name and quality before them all, beseeching if 
there were a true man among them he would send 
word to Alberic of Wodebrig, or to St. Edmund’s 
Convent. But there was no true man I think, or 
else they were heavy with wine; for they only 
mocked at me the more. 

At last, growing tired, Ranulf the Wolf ordered 
me to be taken back again, giving me first a word 
that filled me with despair. “ Back to lair, boy, and 
sleep while you can,” he said. “ In three days 
Count Baldwin will be here. He has sent word he 
means to deal mercifully with you; he will spare 
your life, but blind your eyes, so that they never see 
to thrust dagger again. Ha, do you not like the 
news? Does thought of searing copper scare you? 
Methinks it will be better than music of my best 
hound to listen to your howls.” 

That this was no idle threat I knew well; it was 
too common a way of dealing with an enemy. Was 
there not Lucas the minstrel, who, when blinded 
for writing verses against the king, had dashed his 
brains out against the prison wall. Nay, was it not 
whispered that King Henry himself had put out 
the eyes of his brother Robert? I answered naught 

all power of speech seemed suddenly to have left 

me — I could scarce walk, and stumbled as they 
dragged me out. Then one at the lower table, 
touched, I think, by my woeful condition, held out 
to me a horn of wine. I gulped it down at a 


GUNDULF THE THRALL. 


37 


draught, lest my warders should stay me, and I be- 
lieve that timely drink of good wine gave me 
strength for all that followed. When presently we 
descended to the dungeon again, only one gaoler — 
he who bore the keys at his waist — was in charge 
of me, and, as he stooped to replace the fetters on 
my ankles, I raised my chained hands and struck 
him so fair a blow he fell as one dead. It was a 
blow struck upon impulse, without purpose, with- 
out motive, save to pay the fellow back some of 
his ill-usage. If they killed me for it, so much the 
better — better to die than to be blinded. 

As the gaoler fell, Gundulf muttered in his thick 
voice — he had no strength yet to speak aloud : 

Well done, well done, but finish your work, my 
young lord. Take the knife from his belt and make 
an end of him.'' 

I shook my head. “ What use? He is a dog, 
but I will not kill him; if it were his master, I 
would not fail. Yet will I have his knife; it will 
serve maybe for myself; for, know you, in three 
days I am to be blinded." 

Then you will be worse off than me," returned 
Gundulf, looking at me curiously. “ If ever they 
let me out, at least I shall need no guide." 

Neither shall I. Think you I shall be con- 
tented to live after it? If there be no other way, 
I will dash my head against the wall as others have 
done before me." 

‘'Not so: life is sweet to the young; you will 
think better of it/' 


38 the knight of the golden chain. 

As I stooped to draw the knife from the man's 
belt, my fettered hands encountered the hanging 
keys — the keys he used to lock my chains. 

“ Can you unloose me? " I cried, thrusting them 
upon Gundulf. “ By holy St. Edmund, I should 
be glad to strike one blow before I die." And I 
crouched down by his side so that he might the 
better reach me. 

It took some time. The thrall knew not the 
trick of it, and his very eagerness made him the 
longer. At last, one quick turn, they fell with a 
clang, and I lifted my arms in thanksgiving. Nigh 
upon two years had I worn those weary chains, 
until they seemed to have become part of me. 

What next?" cried Gundulf, jumping upright. 
He fell back directly with a low moan. His feet 
had been burned to the bone. Even now, after all 
this time, it was torment only to touch them. He 
made no attempt to rise again, but lay looking at 
me piteously. 


CHAPTER V. 


WE ESCAPE FROM THE WOLF. 

Once released from those vile fetters, something 
of my old spirit came back to me. I would make 
one effort for freedom be the cost what it might. 
My extremity was such, that death had lost its 
terrors. It was a desperate venture at best. Still, 
if those above continued drinking as when I left 
them, they must soon be stupefied. And the var- 
lets were drunken, too. I had noted great buckets 
of ale and mead, from which all who would were 
helping themselves freely. It was partly the thick 
ale he had swallowed that made the gaoler succumb 
so readily. 

But Gundulf! There was the rub! I liked not 
to leave him behind, yet if he could not walk — and 
I heard the poor thrall breathing heavily, and knew 
that his eyes were fixed upon me. I could not 
leave him, that was certain. 

'' I am for escape, Gundulf,’’ I cried. Will 
you try it? The chance is but slender, yet better 
than dying by inches here.” 

“ Will you carry me on your back then, my 
good lord? ” he answered bitterly. 


39 


40 the knight of the golden chain. 

“ Ay, that will I, if I be stout enough. It is the 
only thing to do. I will put on the gaoler’s gar- 
ment— my own foul rags would soon betray me — 
with your head held down, they will but think you 
too drunk to stand. We may win to the courtyard 
without discovery. After that, I know not what 
may chance. The walls are high, the bridge will 
scarce be down.” 

“ Can you swim, my lord?” 

“ Not well, but far enough to cross the moat, if 
we can reach it.” 

“ Then you might get away if unhindered by 
me. Leave me to my fate.” 

“ That were ill done when we have been com- 
rades for so long, if you care to chance it. Be sure 
if we are caught, they will kill us out of hand.” 

“ Better so than lying here; but would you risk 
your safety for a thrall, my lord? Or is it only 
that you think I dare not venture, that my heart 
will fail?” 

“ Wait and see.” With all haste I stripped the 
senseless gaoler. Under my rough handling the 
fellow revived somewhat, so, to make all sure, I 
clapped my irons about his legs and fastened him 
to the chain. I was not afraid of his calling out. 
Well I knew that none could hear him. 

I was soon equipped in the gaoler’s leathern 
tunic, which reached near to my feet. Turning to 
Gundulf, I bade him mount upon my back. 

Gundulf gave a grim little laugh. “ You have 
forgotten you did not come hither yesterday. \ou 


WE ESCAPE FROM THE WOLF. 


41 


will soon learn you have no strength to swim the 
moat.'' 

The thrall was right. When bowing my back I 
essayed to raise him, I trembled, and sank to earth 
like a child. Gundulf laughed again at my cry of 
discomfiture. 

“ Nay, my good lord — and if we win through 
this, I vow before Heaven to serve no lord but you, 
and to serve you truly — I am not quite so helpless 
as I seem. I fell at first through coming upon 
my feet too sudden; afterwards, I pray your pardon, 
it was but to try you. Think you I could bear 
the burning brand for so long without flinching, 
and not be able to suffer something to gain free- 
dom? Help me to rise if you will, and I warrant 
I can walk so that none shall guess there is much 
amiss with me." And he did; with my aid he 
stood upright upon his feet and walked, though well 
I knew what pain the effort cost him. 

When we passed through the door we drew the 
dungeon bolts behind us, shutting in the gaoler 
hard and fast. Then I helped my maimed comrade 
to mount the steps. 

Do you know the run of the castle, my lord? " 
he whispered, as we stole upward. 

I know naught save the hall where they took 
me but now; I know neither the castle nor the 
country." 

“ Then I am wiser than you. I know both 
well, and may be able to help you yet. They forced 
me help build the walls not so very long ago, but 
4 


42 the knight of the golden chain. 

— hist! One comes. Let me have the knife I pray 
you, and lower your head, my lord. Remember 
you are no knight, but a mean thrall.’’ 

I did as he bade me, and Gundulf made ready 
to strike; but the danger passed us by; ere we 
reached the last step the man had gone, it was but 
some varlet staggering to his lair. The hour had 
grown late; the revels were ending even before I 
was dismissed; and it had taken some time to un- 
lock the chains, so that by now it was night. The 
dungeon, according to the usual custom, was below 
the keep. When we reached the upper floor, where 
stores were kept, we found the door half open, just 
as the gaoler had left it. Moonlight was shining 
within as we halted for a while that Gundulf might 
rest his feet, keeping in the deep shadow of the 
archway, where we could not well be seen. 

The courtyard was quite deserted; the draw- 
bridge raised, the warder’s tower still and dark; 
there was no one stirring without, save two watch- 
men on the walls. Lights, however, still flickered 
from the hall. Even as we looked, a small side 
door opened, and Ranulf the Wolf came forth alone. 
He passed close to where we were hidden, and we 
dared not move, dared hardly to breathe, nor could 
we fall upon him because of the watchmen. He 
was so drunk that he staggered as he walked. 
When he mounted the outer stair that led to the 
chamber above, I thought more than once he would 
fall. 

Well for him he lies not in the hall to-night,” 


WE ESCAPE FROM THE WOLF. 


43 

muttered Gundulf, or my knife had found the 
way to him.’’ 

Other eyes were watching also. Directly he dis- 
appeared, the two men came down from the walls 
and stole into the hall. 

Now they have gone to drink what is left,” 
whispered Gundulf in my ear. Our task to-night 
will be easy.” 

‘‘ The faithless varlets, if they were under me 
they would keep better .watch,” I said ; for, although 
it was in our favour, it seemed an evil thing a fair 
castle should be left so unguarded. 

Gundulf laughed. “ Well for us they do not. 
I warrant me they will linger there till daybreak.” 

He was wrong. Scarce had the words left his 
lips when the two came out again, bearing between 
them a bucket of ale and a couple of drinking-cups, 
which they carried up to the battlements. Gundulf 
followed them with his eyes for awhile, then said 
softly, as he struggled to his feet: 

“They are more wary than I thought; yet it 
matters not. There is a snug corner near the 
warder’s tower, well-sheltered from the winds; they 
will hob and nob there together, and trouble us no 
more. Time to be moving now, my lord; our path 
lies the other side. Pray only that none be waking 
in hall. We must pass the open door.” 

When we came near, all was so quiet that, feel- 
ing safe in the gaoler’s dress, I pulled my hood 
close and looked in. The candles still flickered on 
their long spikes, the trestles had not been moved; 


44 the knight of the golden chain. 

and upon the benches and under the tables, knight 
and squire and serving-man lay sleeping around; 
noble born at the upper end, common folk near 
the door. Though the cups were empty, there were 
plenty of half-filled platters, and, thinking a mouth- 
ful of fresh meat would not come amiss to those 
who had lived on bread and beans for so long, I 
crossed the threshold and seized the nearest dish. 
A sleepy varlet half raised his head, then, before I 
could take alarm, fell back again. Gundulf, seeing 
all was safe, hobbled to my side, and, in less time 
than I can tell, the contents of the platters near were 
hidden amongst his rags. He peered around for 
a draught of ale or wine; but the watchmen had 
taken care of that — all the vessels were empty. We 
stole out again, and, keeping always in the shadow, 
lest wakeful eyes might spy us, crept to the corner 
most remote from the warder’s tower, and mounted 
to the walls. But first, on the way, as we went 
around the courtyard, Gundulf crawled on ^11 fours 
to the well, returning with something wound about 
his hand. 

“ See what it is to know the ways of a place,’’ 
he whispered, as once more we crept onward. 

Tis but a strip of knotted hide that carried the 
buckets, yet will it save us a heavy fall.” 

And so indeed it did; for, when fastened secure- 
ly, the hide hung down outside to within a foot of 
the water. We had but to slide down and slip in. 
But now that we had got so far, nought would 
satisfy Gundulf but he must set to and eat some 


WE ESCAPE FROM THE WOLF. 


45 


of the victuals he had carried off. In vain I urged 
him to wait until we were in safety, or, at least, 
until we were out of the castle — nothing would 
move him. 

“ Nay, my lord, I know what I am doing,” he 
returned, with his mouth full. Best follow my 
example without delay. The moat is wide and 
deep, we shall need all our strength to cross it; a 
mouthful of flesh will put heart into us. Try it, 
my young lord, else may you not succeed.” 

But although I was provided with a tempting 
morsel of venison, I was so eager to be gone I 
could not swallow. Gundulf had pity upon my im- 
patience at last, and, after carefully stowing away all 
he had left, stripped off his rags, and made them 
into a bundle, bidding me do the same, that we 
might swim the easier. He even insisted upon tak- 
ing my tunic as well as his own, carrying the roll 
upon his head. 

In the water my feet will not fail me,” he said. 
“ It is but fair I should do what I can. Now, my 
lord, if you are ready I will go first to show the 
way.” 

We descended with little trouble. The knotted 
hide bore us so well that we made scarce a splash 
as we entered the water. But it struck ice cold to 
my enfeebled limbs, and before we reached the fur- 
ther side a great stiffness suddenly came upon me. 
I could move neither hand nor foot; had it not 
been for Gundulf I must have been drowned. Hap- 
pily, we were not far from the bank, and, casting 


46 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

the bundle to shore, he caught my hair and dragged 
me out. Then, sinking down by my side, he 
rubbed me with all his power, until I was myself 
again. 

Now, my lord, put your best foot to it,” he 
cried as soon as we had donned our raiment, '' and 
see if I am not able to keep up with you. With 
sweet air above and green turf below, by our Lady 
I am a new man. I will lead if you like it. I know 
where to look for friends. Hurry on, my good 
lord, I pray you hurry on.” 

And truly that poor fellow kept ever by my 
side, make the best speed I might, which was but 
little; for my legs were so stiff from long disuse, 
it was exceeding hard at first to stretch them. 
When the track was rough, Gundulf would hold on 
by my shoulder, hobbling upon his heels; at times 
he would drop to the ground and bound along on 
hands and knees. In one fashion or another he 
failed not to press forward, not heeding the pain 
of it nor halting once. 


CHAPTER VI. 


A FRIEND IN THE FOREST. 

The path we took led us into the forest, where 
Gundulf pressed forward, threading devious ways 
into the very heart of it. Nor did he pause nor 
stay for rest until we emerged upon a little clear- 
ing. Suddenly, he stopped short as if an arrow had 
pierced his breast, giving utterance to a cry more 
like some wild beast than a human being. I feared 
at first that we had fallen again into the power of 
our enemies; then as he hobbled hither and thither, 
wringing his hands and cursing those who had de- 
stroyed him, I discovered the cause of his distress. 
In the midst of the clearing stood the remains of 
what had once been a wattled hut. It was his old 
home, and my lord’s foresters had burnt it. 

“ And all for a dog,” he wailed. “ The foul 
fiend take every hound that ever gave cry. My 
dame, my child, my pretty one, have they burned 
them also, or cast them out into the forest to per- 
ish?” And, throwing himself upon the ground 
where had once been his home, he fell to crying and 
sobbing. 

Now, I had seen churl’s huts burned often. I 

47 


48 the knight of the golden chain. 

had given a hand to it myself when it came in my 
way, and it seemed a strange thing to me he should 
take it so much to heart. 

‘‘ By my faith, man! ” I exclaimed, one would 
think by your cries a hut could ne’er be built up 
again. Touching your dame and child, is there no 
place where they could have sought shelter, no 
friendly convent willing to help them? As for the 
rest, it is naught; huts are burned every day.” 

'‘Ay, by you nobles,” he retorted bitterly; 
" and churls are tortured to death every day, yet are 
their lives dear to them. Ah, it is well to be a 
noble! When you fall out, the poor churl pays for 
all. ’Tis the churl’s poor huts are razed to the 
ground, not my lord’s strong castle; ’tis the churl 
receives the death-blow, not my lord cased in iron. 
At the worst you are but held to ransom, and even 
that you drag from the churl. Were not our dues 
doubled when the Wolf — curses be on his head — 
was taken prisoner over-sea? The place was poor 
enough, but I built it with my own hands, and 
loved every stick of it.” 

All this was poured forth in breathless fashion, 
and when he paused I knew not what to say. It 
was, as he said, though I had not seen the matter 
in that light before. Yet how could things be other- 
wise? Churl and noble there must be, I doubt not, 
until the day of doom; and the churl must ever 
have the worst of it. Yet did I feel sorry for hav- 
ing reproached the poor man. But Gundulf did 
not want for sense; he knew also that it must be 


A FRIEND IN THE FOREST. 


49 


SO, and, after a space, wherein he seemed to gulp 
down great strangling sobs, he said more qui- 
etly: 

“ My lord, I pray you pardon me. I mean no 
offence, though when my blood is up my words are 
somewhat wild. It is the will of Heaven, and you, 
my lord, have been very good to me. I should 
have died long ago in yonder dungeon but for 
your tendance, and you might well have left me 
there. Touching what you say concerning my 
dame and little one, there is reason in your words. 
If she had warning of their coming, she would have 
fled beforehand, and hid where they could not find 
her. If so, she would have left Dickon; maybe 
we shall find a friend to help us spite of all. Heaven 
knows we are in need of one!” Putting two fin- 
gers into his mouth, he gave a strange, oddly 
sounding whistle, not very loud, yet clear enough 
to penetrate some distance. 

“What is that for?” I asked in surprise. 
“ Have you friends among the outlaws?” 

“No outlaws near here, my good lord, else it 
might be the better for us. Yet had I once a trusty 
friend who may do us good service if he be only 
within call. If he come not, there is nothing for it 
but to jog on as before. But by your leave we will 
rest here awhile first; there is a brook hard by will 
give us drink, and cool my tender feet.” And he 
limped along a well-worn track that led down to a 
stream. Presently, when we had quenched our 
thirst, Gundulf put fingers to his lips again; but I 


50 the knight of the golden chain. 

said no more of his friend in the woods at that 
hour, thinking it best to ask no questions. 

There was a shrewd touch of frost in the air, 
the night-wind was biting cold, and, as the trees 
had hardly yet begun to bud, there was not much 
shelter if our foes should come in pursuit of us. 
I trembled to think we were still so near the Wolfs 
abode, yet, for all my impatience, I would not hurry 
Gundulf. We sat for a time, a long time it seemed 
to me, in silence; Gundulf ’s feet lapped about the 
running water, his ear pressed often to the earth 
to listen. At length he broke the silence. 

“ Whither would you wend, my lord? What 
place would you make for?” 

“To London city first. I have friends there 
who will set me right for Winchester.” P'or I felt 
that I must seek out Walter, the merchant, who car- 
ried my letter to the bishop and my bag of money. 
And as I knew naught of what had happened in 
the land during my imprisonment, my mind was 
still set on going to Winchester. 

But whilst I had been pining in dungeon there 
had come to pass great changes. When I left the 
convent on that ill-fated journey, Stephen was on 
the throne, the bishops and barons all thronging 
to his side. When I escaped in the early spring, 
of the year of grace, 1141, Stephen was prisoner at 
Bristol Castle, and the Empress Matilda supreme 
at Winchester. Aided by her half-brother, Robert 
Earl of Gloucester — a most noble and valiant knight 
— the Empress had crossed the seas to claim her 


A FRIEND IN THE FOREST. 


51 


fair realm of England. King Stephen had fought 
right gallantly, yet in the end he was overcome be- 
fore Lincoln Castle, and taken prisoner. Then was 
the Empress escorted into the royal city, with a 
splendid procession, and exceeding great festivities, 
and proclaimed Sovereign of England before all the 
people. Henry of Blois — in whose household I 
hoped to take service — the most powerful bishop in 
the land, and Stephen’s own brother, was one of the 
first to do homage to her. 

This will explain what is to follow; but that 
night in the forest I knew not but that Stephen was 
ruler still. 

Gundulf whistled yet once more. “ Should he 
come not this third time, our labour is vain. If 
you wend Londonward, my lord, it is south we 
must go, two or three weeks’ journey at the least. 
Eor look you, at the first we must hide by day and 
travel by night. As we go forward, we may get 
on quicker. But now, my lord, tell me in good 
sooth, will you take me for your man — will you let 
me serve you?” 

Ay, that would I with good will,” I answered 
quickly, if only you were free. But you are a 
bondman; your true lord would have a word to 
say in the matter.” 

Nay, I have altogether done with him. If he 
caught me now, he would tear me limb from limb. 
I take you for my lord henceforth.” 

Rising to his knees, the thrall put his hands be- 
tween mine and took oath to serve me faithfully. 


52 the knight of the golden chain. 

I did not hinder him. What mattered it? If Ran- 
ulf the Wolf did not catch us, we might well fare 
forth together. 

Scarce had Gimdulf spoken the last words when 
there was a trampling among the bushes, a low 
fierce whinny, and a rough forest pony broke out 
upon us. It drew back at sight of me, and made as 
if it would have fled again, but Gundulf, with a cry 
of joy, called it near, and presently the creature was 
fondling its master with affection almost human. 

“See now!” he cried. “Said I not I had a 
trusty friend, a friend worth waiting for? Well I 
knew if Dickon were within reach of my voice he 
would come to my call. Mount, mount behind 
me; no fear of the Wolf now;” and he jumped 
upon the pony’s back, his long legs hanging close 
to the ground. “We need not saddle nor bridle; 
Dickon will answer to my slightest touch.” 

I jumped up behind as he bade me, the little 
pony shaking its shaggy sides and trotting on as 
if it carried no double burden. Through the forest 
paths we went, where trees grew so close we had to 
bend low down to escape the branches, and our 
legs were torn with brambles. It was pitch dark in 
some places, or when more open it would be fet- 
lock deep in bog; but the brave beast never faltered 
until we came out upon the open road. By this 
tim.e it was break of day, the sun was rising, our 
flight must soon be discovered. We halted now for 
a space to give Dickon time to breathe, and Gun- 
dulf said to me over his shoulder: 


A FRIEND IN THE FOREST. 


53 


My lord, I have a boon to beg of you.’^ 

I am ill able to grant favours,'’ I answered, 
'' seeing it is you who are helping me. First you 
drew me forth from the moat, then you found the 
beast ” 

“ Nay, if you will go back to that,” he interrupted 
with a laugh, “ I owed you my life beforehand. I 
should have died in the dungeon but for you. But I 
am loth to go without knowing of my pretty ones, 
and would crave leave to quit you for a space to 
find out what has befallen them. I know where to 
seek for tidings, but it would be dangerous to drag 
you thither; it is far out of your way, which leads 
through a village called Infylde. I could rejoin 
you there. If I come not, it is that the Wolf has 
caught me and I am a dead man.” 

“ Then why risk it? Why not come back later 
when he has forgotten?” 

Gundulf shook his head. ‘‘ You are young, my 
lord. You know not how dame and little one pull 
at the heart-strings. I shall be but half a man until 
I find out their fate. I would leave Dickon if I 
could, but I fear much he would not obey you.” 

Neither could I take him, seeing how it is 
with your feet. So tell me what way to bend my 
steps, and when we shall be likely to meet. It will 
be safe to travel by day now, I suppose?” 

Safe enough now, my lord. They will not 
look for us so far afield.” 

As we rode on again, he gave me directions for 
finding my way to Infylde, where, if all went well 


54 the knight of the golden chain. 

with him, we should meet again. With Dickon 
and knowing the by-roads, he expected to be there 
first. But if I am not, my lord, do you not wait. 
If 1 live, be sure I will follow you.’' 

I, on my part, told him of Walter of London, 
who dwelt in the Chepe, where he might learn tid- 
ings of me. 

Soon after this we parted, Gundulf riding north- 
ward on his wild pony, I striding lustily toward the 
south, resolved to sell my life dearly should any 
man try to stay me. For I liked not my last abode, 
and vowed roundly that Ranulf the Wolf should 
never take me alive again. 


CHAPTER VIL 


THE LITTLE MAID. 

My first day's journey was but short. Long 
imprisonment had so weakened my limbs that 
nightfall was yet far off when I found I could scarce 
drag myself along. Compelled to halt, much 
against my will, I took refuge in a half-burnt barn 
and slept until the morning. I still had a portion 
of the venison I brought away from the castle, else 
should I have fared badly; for in the whole of that 
second day's journey I met with none to help me. 
The fields lay all untilled, a little village I passed 
through was in ruins and deserted, and more than 
once I came upon the dead body of some famine- 
stricken serf lying by the roadside just as he fell. 
To such a pass had the wars between rival factions 
brought a once fruitful country! As I went far- 
ther I found it much the same. Besides the con- 
stant quarrels of the barons, the outlanders — the 
Flemings and Brabanqons brought from over-sea 
by King Stephen to fight his battles — had worked 
their will upon the wretched people. 

On the third day I walked for some hours with- 
out meeting a living creature, and, as I had eaten 

55 


56 the knight of the golden CHAIin. 

nothing since the morning before, I began to feel 
somewhat sharp set. Suddenly, the track took a 
turn, and I saw a castle, built on the summit of a 
low hill. As I drew nearer, I came upon a few 
mean hovels clustered at its foot. Ere I reached 
the foremost, I saw the whole population slowly 
wending their way up to the gate. It was past the 
ninth hour, their lord would be at dinner; when he 
had eaten, they would rush in and seize upon what 
was left. If I begged, they would bid me come 
with them, that was certain, and a stranger would 
surely be questioned. 

I dared not; I might be caged again. So I 
drew my belt tighter and hastened on. I had not 
fared so well of late but I could bear a little hunger. 

I rested that night at a small convent, where 
the monks were so poor they had not even barley 
bread, only a mess of salted beans for supper 
which they shared with passing wayfarers. I was 
glad enough of a portion; but the one traveller be- 
sides myself, a sturdy beggar long used to the road, 
grumbled sorely. He took care, however, not to 
let the good monks hear him. In their presence 
he whined and protested his thankfulness; whilst I, 
who heartily devoured my mess and said little, was 
taken to be ungrateful. 

This same man did me next day a grievous 
wrong. Under pretence of showing me a shorter 
route to Infylde, he took me far out of my road, 
leading me, in truth, in quite another direction. 
Why, I know not, save that my company pleased 


THE LITTLE MAID. 


57 


him, and he was loth to travel alone. It was long 
before I discovered this, for the rogue was wise and 
witty, full of good stories which amused me well, so 
that I walked on without noting. Something 
aroused my suspicion at length, and, laughing 
heartily, he confessed the truth. Had he not been 
so sturdy and strong, I would have dusted his 
jacket. As it was, I could only vow vengeance at 
some future time; at which he laughed the more. 

Parting from the rascal in hot anger, I made back 
at my best speed; but must have gone wrong again, 
for it was fast growing dark, when I found myself 
upon a desolate, wind-swept waste, not a path or 
track upon it. Looking around for some sheltered 
hollow where I might lay me down for the night, I 
caught sight of a bright gleam, flickering now high, 
now low, as from some far-off fire. I made for it at 
once, but, unable to see my steps, soon plunged 
into a bog, and, sinking above my knees, floundered 
about helplessly. I extricated myself at last, though 
not without much trouble, and struggled, scant of 
breath, to firmer ground. Here I was compelled to 
rest for a space, when suddenly the stillness was 
broken by a shrill, piercing scream, followed by 
piteous cries for mercy, in the voice of a child. 
Fearing some ill was afoot, I made on as fast as 
possible, until only a clump of bushes hid me from 
those round the fire. 

There were three men and a woman — wander- 
ing jongleurs by their parti-coloured garments, and 
by harp and viol lying near — and a little dark-haired 
5 


58 the knight of the golden chain. 

maiden, whom the oldest man of the party was 
beating cruelly. She was so delicately fashioned 
she appeared to me a child of some ten or a dozen 
years, though, as you will see presently, she was 
older; but, even then, as the fire flickered upon her 
face, I noticed her soft, dark eyes, her hair black as 
a raven’s wing. The others lay around uncon- 
cerned, the woman tending a pot which simmered 
among the embers. I doubted at first how best to 
interfere. It was plain I could do no good by 
force; then a thought took me, and, stepping for- 
ward, I caught the fellow’s upraised arm, saying 
in jesting fashion; “ Good master, that little back 
is scarce broad enough for such a lusty arm; lay 
on to me instead ! ” 

He threw me off roughly, but my sudden ap- 
pearance startled them not a little; the woman 
rushed away with the pot, and the two men jumped 
up and stood before her. When they found I was 
alone, they questioned me eagerly — whence I came, 
and whither I was going, and how it chanced I was 
wandering on the waste. This last question I an- 
swered easily enough — I had lost my way — which 
was the truth; as to the rest, I made up some lame 
tale they might believe if they would. They seemed 
satisfied, however, and when the alarm subsided, the 
leader, who through it all had not released his hold 
upon the child, raised the stick and began again to 
beat her. Once more I caught his arm and cried: 

“ Good master, did you not hear me? Yon 
back is too slight, your arm too brawny.” 


THE LITTLE MAID. 


59 


He turned upon me fiercely. Why meddle 
you in other men’s matters? She is my bought 
slave. Can I not do what I will with my own? Is 
a varlet like you to hinder me?” 

“ You mistake, I hinder you not. If 3^ou must 
use the stick, I proffer my broad back in exchange.” 

“ You will take her beating? ” 

'' Even so, if in return you will let the little maid 
go free; ” for in truth I pitied the poor child. She 
looked so slight of frame, I feared his heavy blows 
might kill her. 

I shall not spare you, mind. It has been ow- 
ing to the slut this week past. She is shrewish 
and unruly, she would not dance when I piped, she 
shamed me before them all in my lord’s castle but 
yesterday. I vowed then I would beat her soundly.” 

“ Lay on, master, lay on; you will not find me 
flinch.” 

The fellow loosed the child, who tarried not for 
half a moment, but scurried out of sight like a 
wounded bird. Then did I receive the warmest 
drubbing that ever came to me. It was more than 
I bargained for, truly; but my pride was concerned, 
I would not cry enough, but let him keep on until 
he tired. The game mightily diverted the others; 
it was not often they had such fine sport; and they 
stood around laughing and cracking coarse jests, 
enjoying themselves thoroughly. At length the 
jongleur’s arms dropped from sheer weariness, and 
I hastily jumped aside, lest on taking breath he 
should fall to again. 


6o the knight of the golden chain. 

“ Said I not well you had a brawny arm? ” I 
cried, a little ruefully. “ My back will smart for 
days.” 

There was a roar of laughter, in which I joined 
as best I might, and thus we became good friends. 
They spoke me fair, made room for me to sit by 
the fire, and when the pot was ready, I plunged my 
knife in with the rest. It was a savoury mess, and 
plentiful, and I saw now why my sudden appear- 
ance had so alarmed them. Had the forest-keepers 
caught us at supper that night, most assuredly we 
ourselves had been food for crows before morning. 
Once, with a sidelong glance at me, one muttered 
something about swine’s flesh. I nodded my head 
and said it was toothsome, feigning not to know 
what meat it was. And all the time the little maid, 
whom the woman had fetched back again, kept 
close to my side. Sometimes, when no one was 
looking, she would softly stroke my poor back, or 
slip her small hand into mine. 

After the meal the harp was passed round. 
When it came to my turn I forgot the part I was 
playing, and sung them a merry ditty in good Nor- 
man-French, such as I had been wont to sing in 
hall. This was not extremely foolish ; for it showed 
at once I was not the ragged villein I seemed, and 
I might have paid dear for it. Their suspicions 
were aroused j there was a quick glance round, 
which I was too simple to interpret, and the leader 
— Jocellus by name — suddenly caught my wrists, 
where fetter marks were plain. 


THE LITTLE MAID. 


6l 


“ Hast been in bonds?” he asked, with a laugh. 

‘‘ Aye, I angered my lord, and he did not spare 
me — the fiends take him!” I answered shortly. 

‘‘ Best stay with us, then. Your song will serve 
at a pinch; we shall be a merry company.” 

“That would not do; I will sing in no lord’s 
castle. I have been free of bonds too lately to risk 
being caught again. I can make no merriment for 
my lords in hall.” 

“That matters not; it is to London city we are 
wending. There will be brave doings there if it be 
true there is a new Queen.” 

“ But I am for Infylde, where I have promised 
to meet a friend.” 

“ And Infylde is in the lordship of Herbert Fitz- 
Hugh. His officers have sharp eyes; they will soon 
lay you by the heels.” 

This made me hesitate; there might be truth in 
the fellow’s words, for these strollers who travelled 
far and wide know much of the different lordships. 
It concerned them to know who would give them 
largesse, who would send them empty away, who 
would threaten them with gyves as thieves and 
vagabonds. Besides, as I had come so far out of 
my way that Infylde was now behind me, it was not 
worth while to travel back. As to Gundulf, like as 
not he had gone on already, and I should find him 
in London. It never came to me to wonder why 
the jongleurs should be so anxious for my company 
— why they pressed me so eagerly to remain with 
them. I did not give that a thought. In one re- 


62 the knight of tfie golden chain. 

spect only did I display any prudence; I said not 
that I also was bound for London. It was a mere 
chance, yet did they ever imagine that Infylde was 
my real destination, and that they had turned me 
from it. 

For near upon three weeks I travelled with these 
jongleurs, though it irked me much that our prog- 
ress was so slow. And ever they told me that Lon- 
don was close at hand, that we should reach the 
city the next day or the next; and I, who had never 
travelled so far before, was foolish enough to be- 
lieve them. We visited not any castle, but at the 
slightest excuse — a wayside ale-house, a village 
green where they were little like to earn even a 
meal — they would linger for hours, saying when I 
grumbled, it was to use me to the work, and that 
it was good to try new songs on the road. Then 
they would halt for the night long ere the sun went 
down, nor start again until late morning. I harped 
and sang for them; Jocellus threw balls and knives, 
so that it was a sight to see him; and one they 
called Godric, the fool, played the viol, whilst the 
little maid danced right nimbly. As for the third 
fellow, he had quitted us the morning after I joined 
them, Jocellus saying carelessly his comrade had 
business on the road, and would rejoin us later. 
Had I guessed that his business was mine, that he 
was travelling back on my steps to find whence I 
had escaped, meaning to obtain money by betray- 
ing me, I should not have been quite so easy. 


CHAPTER VIIL 


A TIMELY WARNING. 

It was Ela, the little maid, whom I had to 
thank for my escape. We had become very good 
friends, though for all she was so small she did not 
scruple to jibe at me, calling me slow and dull of 
wit when I did not happen to understand. She her- 
self was quick beyond all I ever knew; a word, nay, 
a look, would reveal to her your meaning. 

It was one of my duties to give the damsel each 
day some practice upon th^ harp, when it was my 
turn to laugh if she did not touch the strings aright. 
Yet did I jest at her but once, and was sorry for it 
after, she took her failures so to heart. On this 
particular day when we halted for the evening upon 
an open waste, I looked for her in vain, neither 
could I see Jocellus. Of this last I was glad; for 
had he known she missed her lesson he might have 
punished her. That last night dwells in my mem- 
ory still. When Jocellus came back, he brought 
with him the absent member of our company. He 
had met him on the way, he said. Though we had 
been hard put to it all day even to gain a meal, yet 
were they all in merry heart, laughing and jesting 

63 


64 the knight of the golden chain. 

about the fine things that were to come to pass in 
London. I said not even then that I meant to 
quit them there, nor a word about Walter, the mer- 
chant. Indeed, I suspected nothing, and knew no 
reason why they should betray me; surely, my 
good angel laid a finger upon my tongue. 

After a time, seeing Ela glance toward me with 
some impatience, I sat down by her side. 

“ In what have I offended now, gracious dam- 
sel?’^ I asked, with a laugh. ‘‘It is you who ran 
away; the fault this time is surely not with me.’’ 
Yet as I saw her close, a look of terror in her eyes 
made me add quickly: “ Jocellus has not been 
promising you another beating?” 

“ Nay,” she returned, almost in a whisper. “ I 
have been taking your beating this time; I have 
heard something that has frightened me sorely. 
Good Brother Simple, can you make-believe for 
once? Can you play at pull-straw, as we did last 
night, so that I may speak to you without their 
noticing?” And, plucking some rushes that grew 
near, she thrust them in front of me. 

“ Turn your head this way, else may your face 
betray you,” she went on, throwing her hand this 
way and that, as if teasing me. All the time, a 
laugh was on the child’s face for the others to see; 
only to me her eyes spake pitifully. “ Good broth- 
er,” she began, “ I have bad news. Jocellus has 
found out you are no Saxon, but a Norman lord 
late escaped from dungeon, and he has sold you to 
your enemies. To-morrow at dawn they are to 


A TIMELY WARNING. 


65 


come and seize you. Nay, start not for your life. 
Sing a stave, if you will ; they are looking at us over- 
closely.'' 

I would not be outdone by the child, and, with- 
out turning my head, I trolled forth a verse or two, 
though I fear my voice quavered grievously. Then, 
plucking at the reeds, I muttered under my breath: 

And how learned you this? How came they 
to let you into the secret?’' 

‘‘ Thanks be to Heaven, they guess not that I 
know; but I have been watching them. I have 
doubted Jocellus from the beginning — ever since he 
prayed you to stay with us. He is not wont to 
be fond of strangers. Then he sent the harper I 
knew not where, and tarried on the way, as is not 
his custom. Besides, his speech was all so fair, I 
knew mischief was brewing, and that it must have 
to do with you.” 

“ Why did you not warn me? ” 

How could I warn you of I knew not what? 
I might guess a little, but you never told me; 
though truly, in your place, I should have needed 
no warning. I did not dub you ' Brother Simple ’ 
for nothing. This noonday I saw Jocellus steal 
forth as if in secret, and followed him close, creep- 
ing up a ditch when I found he went to meet the 
harper. Look,” and she showed me her short skirt, 
soaked with water to the waist and covered with 
green weed. “ I had to tell old Ursula I fell, and 
she scolded me rarely. I durst not tell you all they 
said, it would take too long; but one they call the 


66 the knight of the golden chain. 

Wolf is coming with his horsemen at dawn. He 
has taken oath, they say, to put out your eyes be- 
fore another night. Now, poor brother, what will 
you do? 

“ Thanks to you, little one, that is easily settled. 
I were Brother Simple indeed if I stayed for my 
foes to take me. As soon as it is dark and the 
treacherous villains wrapped in slumber, I will fly. 
My limbs are not stiff now as when first I came 
out of dungeon; they must be fleet of foot to over- 
take me.” 

My lord ” — and she put her hands together 
prettily, unclasping them the next moment lest they 
should spy us — “ My lord, largesse for rny tidings. 
A boon, a boon! ” 

‘‘It is granted, damsel, ere uttered;” and I 
laughed without any pretence, though, indeed, my 
mirth was bitter. “What is it? A chain of gold, 
or that I should wear your glove at the next tour- 
ney? Methinks one is as easily granted as the 
other.” And I laughed again so boisterously, that 
the jongleurs looked up, then turned away well sat- 
isfied. 

“ Nay, my lord, such honours are not for me. 
I would pray only that you take me with you.” 

“Take you with me!” My laughter stopped 
on the instant, though I thought at first she was 
but jesting. 

“ Aye, indeed; and now that you have promised 
my boon, I care for nothing! Though, truly, dear 
brother, I knew you would not fail me.” 


A TIMELY WARNING. 


67 


‘‘ That is more than I do/’ I cried bluntly. “ I 
owe you much for your warning, I do not deny it; 
but how can I take you when I am flying for my 
life, and know no place to hide me? ” 

'' Ah, there spoke Brother Simple again. Sure 
am I you will fare badly without my help. Be- 
sides, you could not leave me here. They would 
guess that I had told you, and beat me nigh to 
death.” 

I saw there was truth in this, and shame would 
it be to me if I escaped and left the damsel to 
suffer. Yet what was I to do with a woman-child? 
How could I dispose of her? I had grown very 
fond of the little maid, and pitied her hard fate with 
all my heart; yet it was impossible — it could not 
be — not thus could I help her. Then as I looked 
up to say her nay, I caught her big eyes fixed upon 
me so pitifully that the words died upon my lips. 
What could I do? There was small space for 
thought. Already it was time, and more than time, 
that we separated. Then it came to me that if I 
left Ela behind I should be so ill at ease to know how 
she fared, I might be drawn back to seek her out 
again. That would be foolish indeed, yet I could 
not answer for myself. After all, it would be well 
to take her. If I reached Walter of London he 
might receive her into his household; or, at the 
worst, I could leave her in some convent, where 
the good nuns would have pity on her. 

The maid knew my altered determination even 
before I did myself. There was no need to put it 


68 the knight of the golden chain. 

into words. She bent her head and touched my 
hand with her lips before I could stay her. 

Heaven help us, Ela, for I know not how it 
will end,” I said sadly. “ If they capture you with 
me, your fate will but be the worse. But since it is 
your own wish — and in truth I like not over much 
to leave you — soon as the woman sleeps steal out 
and meet me under yon low tree. I will wait as 
long as I dare; but if you come not before the 
moon rise I must go alone.” 

“ Never fear, I shall not fail. Ursula sleeps 
sound o’ nights; she will not miss me.” Then 
louder, in a different tone. “ Nay, I will play no 
more, yon long straw was to me, it is not well done 
to cheat a poor maiden ; ” and she turned away in 
pettish fashion as if offended. 

When I looked up, Jocellus was nigh at hand, 
walking softly, as if to trap us. His guilty con- 
science made him uneasy; he had never troubled 
to spy upon us before. Yet did he gain nothing for 
his pains; the little maid was too quick for him. 

After Ela quitted me, I went back to my old 
place, and played the good fellow, and merry jester, 
amongst those false friends who had sold me. We 
were encamped upon the waste, because, although 
there was a village with an ale-house hard by, when 
we essayed to enter they had driven us forth with 
foul speech as a set of idle vagabonds. We had 
played our best, and they had given us no food or 
drink, nothing but churlish words, until my fin- 
gers itched to smite them. The harper, however, 


A TIMELY WARNING. 


69 


had money — earnest penny, I doubt not, of what he 
was to receive for me — and presently he went down 
to the tavern, and came back with a big pitcher of 
strong ale, which he invited us all to share with him. 
This was good, for it would make them sleep the 
sounder; so, though pretending to drink deep, I 
but wetted my lips, to leave more for the others. 
Although to my excited apprehensions, it seemed 
later than ever before all was quiet, I left them at 
last sleeping like swine, and went to keep tryst with 
the little maid. She was there first, waiting for me 
beneath the tree, a dark cloak concealing her tat- 
tered garments, a bag tied fast round her waist. 

“ Which way shall we turn our steps, brother? 
she asked, slipping her little hand into mine. “We 
must be wary, for if you make at once for Infylde 
be sure they will overtake us.’’ 

“Why should I go back there?” I said, in sur- 
prise. 

“ Will you not? Then I am glad; it was Jocel- 
lus thought you would. If you left us, he said 
once, soon after you came, it would be easy to find 
you again, because it was in Infylde you had 
friends.” 

“The old fox was wrong, Ela; my friends are 
in London city. Once safe within the walls, even 
Ranulf dare not touch me where the merchants 
rule. Do you know the road? ” 

“ Not one step of it; never have they travelled 
this way before. Yet am I certain, from what I 
heard but yestermorn, that their faces were truly set 


70 the knight of the golden chain. 

toward London. Therefore, we will keep on, and 
while they look for us on the other track, we shall 
cheat them finely. Come now, let us run; it is not 
safe to linger here.'' 

Hand in hand we set off together, sometimes 
running, sometimes walking with good speed, while 
ever the little maid kept pace with me. When I 
lagged, thinking to ease her, she would always spur 
me on. 

We journeyed thus all night, following a track 
made by pack-horses, plainly to be discerned. At 
first the ground was open on both sides; but when 
dawn came there was the fringe of a thick forest on 
our right hand, round which the track skirted. 

“ The sun is up, soon men will be abroad," I 
said. “ Let us hide in the wood till nightfall. It 
will scarce be safe to go on until the first pursuit 
is over; they may come this way after all." 

Ela praised me for my wariness, and we 
plunged into the forest, pushing where the trees 
grew thickest, to find a hiding-place. After a time 
we came to where a brook flowed deep down, its 
high banks covered with bush and bramble on each 
side. I had scrambled down to give Ela a drink, 
and there I found a little space by the water-side, a 
gnarled tree bending over it, that seemed made for 
us. I called to her to follow, and we were in high 
glee; no man, we thought, could find us; we were 
safe as if already at our journey's end. And so it 
might have been, had not one too early abroad 
spied us entering the wood, and told others of it 


A TIMELY WARNING. 


71 


afterward. But this we could not guess; and we 
sat down well pleased, glad to rest our weary feet. 
Nor was food wanting, though it was not the time 
of year for berries; for now the little maid opened 
the bag she wore at her waist, and brought out 
some broken cakes of bread. 

“ You can not go so fast when you are hungry. 
I learned that long ago,” she said sagely, soaking a 
hard crust in the water before giving it to me. I 
have been hiding the pieces these two weeks ready 
for our flight.” 

“You always meant to come with me, then?” 

“Ay, that I did; I am tired of Jocellus — I 
meant not to stay with him after you left us. And 
now I will tell you something you might have 
guessed for yourself, though well I know the 
thought has not come to you. I am no slave, as 
he called me, no Saxon even, but Norman born as 
you, though I know not my name or lineage. It 
was old Ursula told me, one day she quarrelled with 
Jocellus. When he found she had spoken of it, he 
well-nigh killed her. By that I knew it was the 
truth; had it been an idle tale, he would not have 
minded.” 

“ How came you into his hands, then? Said 
she aught of that? ” 

“ Not much, save that he had money for taking 
me, and that I came from over-sea. But I have 
this; perchance it may help some day to show my 
name ; ” and she took from her neck a length of 
fine golden chain, broken at one end. 


72 the knight of the golden chain. 

“ Did they let you keep this? It is of great 
price/’ I cried in astonishment; for it was of rare 
Eastern workmanship. I had seen just such another 
at St. Edmund’s Convent, brought by a holy palmer 
from Jerusalem. 

Ela laughed. “ Jocellus will rage when he finds 
it gone; I took it myself. Old Ursula showed it to 
me when she told the story. I knew where she hid 
it, and thought it no wrong to take my own.” 

“ Hide it well,” I said, as I gave it back into her 
keeping. “ Many a man has been slain for less. If 
we get safe to Walter the merchant, we will take 
counsel with him on the matter.” 

After we had finished our crusts, I made Ela a 
bed of leaves beneath a bush, half-way up the bank, 
for the low ground was swampy. I pulled the 
branches over well, so that even one wandering to 
the brook to drink would not espy her. Then I 
dropped under the bank again, and, feeling secure 
from all danger, threw myself down to pass the 
time in slumber. ^ 


CHAPTER IX. 

AMONG THE OUTLAWS. 

It has ever been my misfortune to sleep too 
soundly. I can keep watch with any man, but to 
sleep with one eye open, broad awake at the slight- 
est alarm, as some do, I can not, and more than 
once has my heaviness brought me into trouble. 
It was so now; and even the little maid, over weary 
from her exertions of the previous night, was 
caught napping. 

The sun had been high in the sky when I lay 
down. It was sinking fast when I was rudely 
roused by rough hands laid upon me. I had vowed 
I would never be taken alive, where were my brave 
words now? My foes had stolen upon me while 
I slept, I was seized and bound before I had time 
to defend myself. My struggles availed nothing, it 
was too late; for the second time I was tied hand 
and foot, a helpless prisoner. Happily, the Wolf 
was not one of my captors. Hearkening to Jo- 
cellus, he had made toward Infylde, sending for- 
ward his followers to beat every strip of country on 
the way. Had this been all, we should have es- 
caped; but to mxake quite sure he dispatched also 
6 73 


74 the knight of the golden chain. 

four of his band — well-armed outlanders — by the 
road we had really gone, to see if they could learn 
aught of us. This I found by their talk afterward, 
and also how some meddling bondman had told of 
our entering the wood, where they had traced us 
step by step. 

The scuffle over, my first thought was for Ela, 
who, to my joy, had not shown herself, nor made 
the slightest sound. She was so hid that unless 
they searched well they were not likely to find her. 
My chief dread was lest she should come forth to 
share my captivity. So I cried aloud, as if address- 
ing the men: 

“ I have a message for one Walter of London; 
if any man here will carry him word of what has 
befallen me, great will be his reward." 

A loud laugh went round at my supposed sim- 
plicity. 

‘‘ Call again, my lord, call again,” jeered one. 

The birds will hear you, I doubt not. There be 
none else to carry your message; we put not our 
necks into the halter.” 

“ Walter of London, who dwells in Chepe,” I 
cried yet once more. “ Bid him warn my brother 
of what has chanced to me.” 

“ Hold your peace, fool,” said another, striking 
me on the mouth so that the blood flowed. Spare 
your breath to plead with Ranulf; there is none 
here to do your bidding.” 

But I was content. I had seen the bush move 
as if the wind stirred it; the little maid guessed 


AMONG THE OUTLAWS. 


75 


well my meaning. If naught chanced to her on 
the way, she would find a friend in the merchant. 
As to myself, there was small doubt but I should 
be past help long before she could reach him. 

After this, they untied my legs and bid me 
march, but as we were about to mount the bank, 
one cried, suddenly: “ Stay, was there not another? 
Did they not speak of some dancing-maid?’' He 
twisted the rope about my arms till it grew a tor- 
ture. “ What has come of the woman, sirrah? 
Where hast thou hidden her? ” 

There is no woman here,” I answered stout- 
ly; and that was truth, as I deemed it, taking 
Ela but for a child. “ You came upon me by 
stealth, as you know. I had no time to hide.” 

Come along, and stay your prating,” shouted 
the one who seemed their chief. “ What matters 
the woman to us; it is the man my lord is after. 
Leave her to the wolves if she is here; we want 
her not. Come, it is dark beneath the trees even 
now. If we linger, we shall miss the way.” 

There was no more delay after that. They 
climbed the bank quickly, pricking me with their 
knives when I stumbled, and pushed on as fast as 
possible, taking in their haste the wrong path. I 
saw it well enough, but I said no word ; it mattered 
not to me where they went, though I was glad to 
be gone. I could not lose the fear of Ela coming 
forward, for I knew it would be a sore trial to see 
me go from her. We walked on, and it was plain 
they knew not much of woodcraft, or they would 


-6 tpie knight of the golden chain. 

have seen we were going ever deeper into the heart 
of the forest. They had come upon a faintly-trod- 
den track, trampled down by men or beasts, and 
were bent on following it. The head man swore 
lustily it would lead them out of the wood. 

“ See you now, the forest grows less dense,” he 
cried. ‘‘ Were it not so dark we should see the 
edge of it.” 

The trees grew fewer indeed ; but it was because 
we were nearing a space of bog, and, as the ground 
turned soft beneath our feet, we plunged deeper at 
every step. It became plain, even to them, that 
they had lost their way, and there was hot dispute, 
each accusing the other of being in fault. When 
they had had their quarrel out, and struggled back 
to dry ground, they agreed to halt until the moon 
rose to guide their steps. The night was chill, and 
presently they began gathering wood to light a fire, 
though one muttered uneasily about bringing the 
outlaws down upon them. But the others, chafed 
in temper already, laughed scornfully. 

“ Here are four of us,” cried the leader. We 
be stout men, well armed, and not a crown, I war- 
rant, among the lot of us. If it were some fat 
burgher now, or Saxon yeoman trotting home from 
market, I would not answer for it ; but the cowardly 
swine know better than to meddle with sturdy 
men.” And he heaped on the wood till the flames 
blazed merrily. 

They had made me fast to a tree as soon as 
they halted, so that I was separated from them 


AMONG THE OUTLAWS. 


77 


some small space where they sat round the fire. 
Thus I became aware of a low rustling among the 
bushes, which they heard not, though at first I gave 
little heed to it. Some wolf, most likely, prowling 
round, I thought to myself; or a boar, maybe, 
roused from its lair, seeking to escape unseen. 
Then presently it came again nearer still, close al- 
most to my elbow, as if to attack me. I liked not 
the thought of being mangled, and was on the 
point of shouting, to alarm them, when an arrow 
whizzed so close past my ear that I felt the wind 
of it. It pierced the breast of him who had been 
feared of the outlaws, striking him with so true an 
aim that the head came out at his back, and he fell 
dead without a groan. His comrades jumped to 
their feet; but the flames played upon them, whilst 
their assailants were unseen, and two more fell the 
next moment, never to rise again. There was but 
one left now, and he made a desperate rush for 
the trees; then something bounded out upon him. 
I could scarce tell in the dusk whether it were man 
or beast, until I saw a flash of steel, and he Vv^as still. 

All this had taken place so swiftly that I had 
scarce time to draw a breath. As T stood expecting 
my turn to come next, I felt soft hands about my 
limbs, and lo! there was the little maid hacking 
away at my bonds, and striving her utmost to undo 
them* 

‘'What, Ela, are these your friends?” I cried 
in amazement, hardly sure I was not dreaming. 

“ I know not yet whether they be friends or foes,” 


78 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CFIAIN. 

she returned breathlessly. “ I would you were free, 
a knife in your hands, to confront them.’' 

Fortunately her fears proved groundless. 
There were three men in the glade now, wild-look- 
ing fellows clad in skins with the hair still on. 
Rough, tangled beards nearly hid their faces; and 
long shaggy locks matted close together formed 
their only headgear. It is little wonder I doubted 
at first what they might be. Each wore a long bow 
in his hand, and a sheaf of arrows at belt, besides a 
sharp hunting-knife cased in skin. But they spoke 
me fair, and one of them, with a stroke of his keen 
blade, severed the bonds that had baffled Ela. 

“ It is he I told you of,” cried the little maid, 
ere I could speak, placing herself between us as if 
to protect me. “ My brother, who flies from Ranulf 
the Wolf.” 

The outlaw looked at me keenly. My condi- 
tion was rude and unkempt enough even for him, 
and he nodded in kindly fashion. Join with us,” 
he said. It is a fair life in the wild woods, where 
no lords come to trouble us.” Then he turned 
aside to where his companions were stripping the 
dead men, not to lose his share of the spoil. 

“How found you these new friends?” I asked 
Ela in low tones, chafing my numbed arms. 

“ It was they who found me, good brother, as I 
was weeping in the wood alone. I was asleep — fie 
on me — when the outlanders came; they jumped 
out so suddenly that you were in their hands before 
I knew. I was coming out to bid them take me 


AMONG THE OUTLAWS. 


79 


also, when you cried for one to carry your message 
to Walter. I knew that you were speaking to me, 
and I kept close, thinking it would help you most 
to do your bidding. Yet after you were gone I 
was so feared ill would come to you before I could 
get word to him, that I wept as I went, and it was 
then these wild men found me. I told them all, 
just as it had chanced, save that you were a Nor- 
man noble. I said not a word of that, Alain; it 
would not be wise; they think we are Saxon bond- 
men like themselves.” 

“ And so they came to rescue me. How can I 
thank them? ” 

“ No need to trouble,” rejoined Ela coolly. 
“ Little thought had they of you when their steps 
turned this way. This is the road to their home, 
wherever that may be, whither they were compel- 
ling me by force. I prayed to be let go, that I 
might give tidings to one who was your friend. 
They paid no heed to my tears but made me come 
with them. We walked for long, until my heart 
began to sink within me, for fear I should never 
find the way back. Then all at once they stopped 
short in alarm. Strangers had travelled along their 
path, and they made sure their retreat was discov- 
ered. It was I who spied the fire. They were 
frightened at first; but when I said it might per- 
chance be your captors wandered from the way, 
they were ready to jump for joy. They crept softly 
until they were quite close, and the rest you know.” 

The spearmen by this time had been stripped to 


8o the knight of the golden chain. 

the skin and dragged a short distance away. Then 
the wild outlaws gathered around where we stood, 
looking at us curiously. There were but the three 
of them in all, and he who had cut my bonds — he 
was the eldest, his beard almost white — said to me: 

Will you live in the greenwood and be one of us, 
or will you go your way? 

If I am free to choose,’' I answered quickly, 
'' I would fain go on my way. I have friends who 
will aid me can I but reach London town.” 

“ I have heard of the place,” he answered kindly. 
“ It is where the chapmen go; but you will find no 
fair forest there to hide you in. You may go an 
you list, we hold no man against his will; but first 
must you take oath not to betray us: you have 
come too near our borders.” 

That will I gladly, seeing that but for you 
and your arrows I had been prisoner still.” 

Stretch forth your arm, then.” And with the 
point of his knife he pierced a vein in my arm and 
his own, making me catch the blood in my right 
palm. When it was mingled to his fancy, he bade 
me hold my stained hand aloft in the light of the 
rising moon, whilst I repeated certain words after 
him. I mind not now what they were; but they 
so savoured of heathen incantations not fit for a 
Christian man, that I muttered a prayer in secret 
and made sign of the holy cross when he had 
done. 

“ If you betray us now,” he said, foul fiends 
will come on the third night at this hour, and tear 


AMONG THE OUTLAWS. 


8i 


you limb from limb. Never was a man known to 
escape them. Best join us after all; we are not 
so many but there is room for another, and yours 
is a stout arm. The maid too has sense; we will 
find a mate for her.’’ 

But when he saw my mind was set on going, 
he did not further try to stay me, save by showing 
that he thought me a craven. In spite of this he 
did us a great service, offering to guide us out of 
the forest as far as it was safe for him to go. We 
thanked him with all our hearts, and when presently 
the two others, laden with the spoils of the dead 
men, and the produce of their hunt, passed on into 
the darkness, the old man stayed with us. “ Wait,” 
he said, ‘‘ until the moon tops yonder beech; then 
will I guide you straight as an arrow flies. Mean- 
timxC we will eat.” 

Loosing a great hare he carried at his belt, he 
thrust it just as it was into the embers. Whilst 
waiting, he told us of the refuge whither he would 
have taken us if we had joined his band. There 
was a great bog hard by, not to be traversed save 
by those who knew the stepping-places; and in the 
midst was a little islet of firm ground, whereon they 
had made their camp. 

We have women there and children too,” he 
went on. “Your sister would have had company. 
One brought his wife thither, and I found mine 
after. They were willing enough to share our for- 
tunes. We hunger not, the woods are full of fresh 
meat, neither can we thirst while a brook flows. 


82 the knight of the golden chain. 

Best of all, we have escaped our lord, and have no 
tyrant to oppress us.'' 

'' Yet did they lay hands upon you, short would 
be your shrift," I said. 

“ What matters? A man can die but once. 
Better a rope on the nearest tree and have done with 
it, than lie in dungeon to be tortured at my lord's 
pleasure. I have tried it and I know." He showed 
me deep scars upon his shoulders where he had been 
branded. “ While we live here, our lives are our 
own. At sign of danger we keep close, and there 
is only one way they can reach us. They might 
set fire to the rushes and smoke us out. It was 
thought of that frightened us when we saw your 
fire just now. But as yet you are the first who has 
come so near to us. If we have made the path too 
plain, we must seek another. Yet all is safe so 
far"; and he rubbed his hands with glee. '‘You 
are sworn, and dead men tell no tales. The wolves 
will feast this night." 

He drew forth the half-cooked hare and, scrap- 
ing off the ashes and the fur together, divided it 
into three portions. It suited not the little maid 
(her dry crusts pleased her better), so we ate her 
share between us, and then started on our journey. 
At dawn our good guide left us. He came even to 
the outskirts of the wood, showing where we could 
pick up the pack-horse track farther on. And 
now, having come so far — for crossing the forest 
had saved many a long mile where the track wound 
around — I had no fear about travelling by day. So 


AMONG THE OUTLAWS. 


83 


we kept on our road until near noon, when we 
turned aside, and, crossing a meadow foot-deep in 
lush grass and yellow blossoms the little maid gath- 
ered to deck her with, sat down on the banks of a 
wide river to rest awhile. 


CHAPTER X. 

I LOSE THE LITTLE MAID. 

Ela Still had a few crusts at the bottom of her 
bag; the little woman had husbanded them so care- 
fully. I ate with thankfulness, seeing that other- 
wise we must have gone fasting; yet am I bound to 
confess that Ela seemed to find them far more 
toothsome than I did. Then we lingered for a 
time, I feigning to be very tired, so that the little 
maid might rest the longer. The sun shone warm, 
I was near falling asleep, when Ela, touching my 
arm, pointed to a boat coming round a bend of the 
river, floating slowly toward us with the stream. It 
was laden with osiers heaped high above the sides, 
and, though there appeared to be some one in 
charge, the course of the boat was strangely de- 
vious — this way and that, just as the current drove 
it. At last, just abreast of where we sat, it ran into 
the bank at our feet, and a feeble old man, emerg- 
ing from behind the osiers, took pole to try and 
push it off again. Seeing the boat stuck so fast 
that the old fellow could not move it, I went to 
his help. 

“Are vou alone, friend?” I said in good broad 
'84 


I LOSE THE LITTLE MAID. 85 

Saxon, seeing he was a villein from the country- 
side. 

“ Ay, master, for my sins, I lost my fellow over- 
night. He went ashore and came back with a jar 
of mead — St. Guthlac only knows how he got it — 
and when he had drunk his fill, the addlepate fell 
into the water. I threw him a rope, but it was no 
good; he sank like a stone, and came not up again. 
I have had to fend for myself all day, and much 
ado it is to get the boat along.’' 

“ Whither are you bound? ” 

“ Even so far as London. Will you come 
along? I will find you in victual for your help.” 

“ Can you make room for this little maid, my 
sister? ” 

Why not? She will not eat much, and we can 
fix her a nest among the rushes.” 

A few minutes later we were in the boat glid- 
ing down the river. I made Ela a cosy corner 
where she could lie at her ease and watch all that 
passed, and a hat of plaited straw belonging to the 
dead boatman covered me so well that no one from 
the bank would be able to recognise me. 

It was indeed a pleasant mode of travelling after 
our toilsome flight. I had but to keep the boat in 
midstream and the current did the rest. When the 
water flowed against us we drew to land, and, tying 
a rope to the nearest tree, waited until it turned 
again. Better than all — better even than the rest to 
poor Ela’s weary feet — we had baffled our pursuers, 
for we saw no more of the jongleurs nor of the 


86 the knight of the golden chain. 

Wolf’s men. I have no doubt they searched for 
us far and wide; but they would scarce have 
thought of looking for us on the river. 

We were on the boat for three days, pulling up 
for the last night hard by the king’s palace near the 
convent of St. Peter— which they call now the West 
Minster — where was the fine new hall built by Wil- 
liam the Red, wherein to hold his banquets. I little 
thought I should be feasting there myself in no very 
long time, or in what a strange scene I should take 
part. 

We were near to London now, and, soon after 
day dawn, the tide being in our favour, we set 
forth upon the last stage of our journey. It was 
still quite early when the old tower of Mountfichet 
and brave Castle Baynard came in sight; but we 
turned off before reaching them, and entered the 
Fleet, the current still serving to bear us on. Here 
navigation became more difficult, and, I having 
small skill, the old villein had to bestir himself. 
For not only was the river they called the Fleet 
more narrow than the Thames we had just left, 
but there w^as more traffic than we had hitherto en- 
countered. Tall vessels from over seas, filled with 
wares for city merchants; barges laden with stone 
for the rebuilding of the Church of St. Paul, near 
destroyed of late in the great fire; and divers other 
craft, too many to mention — all these crowded 
close together, making toward the mooring-place 
at foot of the hill leading to Lud Gate, where the 
cargoes were wont to be discharged. 


I LOSE THE LITTLE MAID. 


87 


I helped to make the boat fast; then my task 
was done, and, taking Ela by the hand, we mounted 
the hill, passed through the postern beside the great 
gate, and asked of the wayfarers whereabout was 
the Chepe. We found it close at hand; a wide, 
open space, with streets of booths, where the citi- 
zens sold their goods — booths easily removed when 
they wanted the ground for a tournament or pro- 
cession. Yet were they fair to look upon, being 
filled to the doors with wares rich and curious, 
which pleased our country eyes right well. And 
there was one I noted in especial — though Ela cares 
not for it overmuch — so savoury were the smells 
that came forth, so many the people passing in and 
out. It was a cook's shop, with all sorts of victual 
for sale — venison, fowl, small birds, and fish, roasted 
or baked, fried or boiled. Eolk could sit down and 
regale themselves, as many were doing, until my 
mouth watered but to peep in at them; or the vic- 
tual could be carried home all ready to place on 
table. But we tarried not long; we had no money 
to spend, and, seeing our poor garments, one came 
out and would have driven us off only I saved him 
the trouble. 

Noise and confusion reigned around: appren- 
tices bawling their wares, men with pack-horses 
trying to thread their way ’mid the throng, and 
now and again a knight with armed train would 
ride slowly past, his followers shouting loudly to 
clear the way. Round about Chepe were many fair 
houses built of timber, and to one of these I was 


88 the knight of the golden chain. 

directed as the dwelling-place of Walter the mer- 
chant. The door was half open, and we stepped 
straight from the bustle of the market-place into a 
wide hall, where Walter himself, clad in robes of 
office — he had but just entered from a meeting 
of his guild — advanced to meet us. Although he 
had been forewarned that it was likely I might come 
to him, it was some minutes before he recognised 
me, so changed was I from the ruddy stripling who 
had been torn from his protection. Even my long 
wandering had not sufficed to restore a wholesome 
colour to my hollow cheeks. And whereas before 
I had been but short of stature for my age, though 
sturdy withal, I had now shot up nigh upon a 
head taller, whilst my tattered garb hung loosely 
around my wasted limbs. When, however, I had 
made myself known, my reception was hearty in- 
deed, and a welcome extended at once to my com- 
panion. 

“ In good truth, my young lord, I thought you 
dead long ago,” Walter said ; “ and since you had 
been under my charge it grieved me sorely. I did 
what I could, sent messengers to the Prior to let 
him know wdiat had chanced, and tried to trace 
you out. But all was to no purpose, and I gave 
you up for lost. Then of late came one seeking you 
here wdth a marvellous tale of cruel imprisonment 
and a wonderful escape. He was much concerned 
at finding I had heard nothing, and has gone back 
on his steps to see if he can find you. He will 
return, I doubt not, before long. And now if it 


I LOSE THE LITTLE MAID. 89 

please you to come and refresh yourself, afterwards 
we will provide garments more suited to your con- 
dition. I have still the money in my hands given 
me by your uncle. The land is so disturbed it 
has not been safe to send it back. 

We sat down presently to a feast from the same 
eating-house I had so much admired j the good 
merchant, thinking we must be weary from our 
journey, choosing not to make us wait for the buy- 
ing and cooking of meat. Nor was this all. He 
gave us the best chambers where he was wont to 
lodge noble knights who came to London to do 
business with him, and in everything treated us as 
honoured guests. 

After the first few days, in that his household 
was not suited for a maiden, his dame being long 
since dead, he placed Ela under the charge of some 
friends. “ It is too free a bird, methinks,” he said, 
“ to chirp behind convent walls, and dame Joan of 
late has lost her only daughter; she will receive the 
damsel right gladly.” 

I was loth to part from the little maid; she had 
crept closer to my heart than I knew, and truly I 
owed her much. Yet did I still look upon her as 
a child until I paid my first visit after she had tar- 
ried for a space in her new home. I vow then that 
I scarce recognised the Ela I had known so well, 
and truly it was no longer my little maid; she had 
suddenly changed into a damsel fair and stately. 
Instead of the short skirts of divers colours in 
which, with bare arms and flying limbs, she had 
7 


go THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

been wont to dance, she was clad in fine kirtl’e 
reaching to the ground, with a silken robe of an- 
other colour over. And her dark hair, lately float- 
ing loose on every breeze, was now gathered into 
two long plaits braided with threads of gold, which 
hung down almost to her waist. 

I also was differently clad. In place of the 
churl’s clothing I had worn before, my long mantle 
lined with fur covered a fair tunic, with other rai- 
ment to correspond. But in myself I was still the 
same, whilst, to my wonder, Ela herself was 
changed. And yet the reason was very simple, 
though it took me a long time to find it out. 
Though small in stature, Ela in truth was not the 
child I thought — she was nigh seventeen years of 
age, scarce a twelvemonth younger than myself. I 
made a low reverence as to a noble Norman lady; 
she returned it lower still, then broke into merry 
laughter. She rejoiced so much in her new home 
that she was brimming over with joy and hap- 
piness. 

“ They are so good to me — so good,” she re- 
peated again and again; “and I owe it all, dear 
brother, to you. Dame Joan saith I am to live with 
them always, that she will care for me as her own. 
I showed the chain as you bade me, and Master 
Gilbert, the dame’s husband, says it is rare gold- 
smith’s work, brought from the East as you 
thought, and must have belonged to some great 
noble. If he finds Jocellus in the city, he has prom- 
ised to clap him into bonds until he confesses 


I LOSE THE LITTLE MAID. 


91 


whence he had it. Yet I care not much about it 
now. Since I am rid of those who treated me so ill, 
I would fain forget all about them. I can find no 
better friends than I have here, nor a better 
brother.’’ 

Whilst I remained in London I went often to 
see Ela, and spent much time with her. Master 
Gilbert dwelt in a fine house close upon the walls 
with a large garden around it, well furnished with 
trees, spacious and beautiful. I walked much with 
her here, when the weather was fair, sometimes in 
company with Dame Joan, who ever welcomed me 
warmly, sometimes with Ela alone; and always we 
found much to say to each other. I told her of 
my past life, even to the death of Baldwin, wotting 
well she was not one to prate, that she would keep 
the secret. Also, I boasted much, I fear, of the 
fine things I meant to do when I entered the bish- 
op’s household. 

I had been many days with Walter before, to 
my great joy, Gundulf returned, and I know not 
which of us was the more glad to meet again. He 
had found dame and child both safe; they had fled 
from the hut before their lord’s men came, and had 
hidden with humble friends. His kinsfolk had 
long ago given him up for lost, so that they re- 
ceived him as one raised from the dead, with great 
rejoicings. 

For some weeks, I waited in the city for fit op- 
portunity to travel to Winchester. A number of 
the chief men were expected to journey thither 


^2 the knight of the golden chain. 

shortly, sent by their fellow-citizens to make com- 
plaint before the Empress; and it was arranged that 
I should travel in their company. 

“ Our good city is in parlous condition,” quoth 
Walter the merchant, shaking his head gloomily. 

“ Our last state seems like to prove worse than the 
first. This Empress, daughter of good Queen 
Maud though she be, has already oppressed us 
grievously. Before even the crown is placed upon 
her head she has appointed the Earl of Essex our 
over-lord, with the Tower for his castle, as if we 
held no charters at all. Already has he set about 
new fortifications to overawe us; if we bestir not 
ourselves, he will think we be his villeins. We 
are sending now to unfold our grievances and 
speak her fair; but if she listen not, if the Norman 
woman mend not her ways before she come to 
London, by St. Peter and St. Paul, she may go 
back whence she came. We will have none of 
her.” 

I thought Walter overbold, and smiled a little 
to myself at what I considered his vapouring. Sur- 
rounded by her gallant knights, little, I deemed, 
would the Empress have to fear from a pack of dis- 
contented citizens. In this I was wrong, as events 
speedily showed, and I felt more respect for the men 
of London ever after. 

The day before starting I paid a farewell visit to 
Ela. The maid was somewhat saucy again, not 
sparing me even before Dame Joan, and when I 
spoke of the fine things I meant to do she dubbed 


I LOSE THE LITTLE MAID. 


93 


me Brother Simple, as of old. Yet her sauciness, 
methinks, was but put on to hide her sorrow at 
parting; for before I left, her bright eyes filled 
with tears, and she prayed me more than once not 
to forget her. 


CHAPTER XL 


THE BISHOP WILL HAVE NONE OF ME. 

We set forth for Winchester, a goodly cavalcade 
of knights and merchants and attendants, all armed 
to the teeth, because the roads were infested with 
marauders. I made as brave a show as the best 
of them, thanks to good Walter of London, and 
Gundulf rode at my heels on his trusty Dickon. 
Nothing of importance occurred during our journey 
— we were too strong a band to be meddled with — 
and in no very long time the noble towers of Win- 
chester rose before us. We saw them from afar off 
at first, rising as it were from the bare, chalky down, 
and I marvelled at their stateliness. Truly this 
royal city, the favourite dwelling-place of kings, 
was far fairer to look upon than London. Nor did 
my wonder lessen when, after crossing the river by 
St. Swithin’s bridge, we passed through the East 
Gate, and, leaving my lord Bishop’s palace of Wol- 
vesey behind us, rode up the Gyp, as they called 
the chief street, on our way to the castle, which was 
built against the western walls. I halted not at the 
palace at first, as I wished to remove the dust of 
travel before waiting upon Henry of Blois. This 
94 


THE BISHOP WILL HAVE NONE OF ME. 

great prelate, younger brother of Stephen, had now 
for some years been one of the most prominent 
men in the kingdom. Half monk and half knight, 
a keen politician and ambitious man, he aimed at 
making himself Archbishop of Winchester, equal 
with my lords of Canterbury and York. He had 
helped greatly to put his brother upon the throne; 
but when Stephen fell out with the Church, the 
Bishop went over to Matilda, hoping to gain more 
from her. This had taken place not very long be- 
fore my arrival ; thus it chanced that Henry of Blois 
was still a partisan of the Empress when I waited 
upon him to deliver my letter. 

It was at his palace of Wolvesey that the Bishop 
gave audience, a strong place which had of late 
been newly fortified. I had to Vvait my turn in a 
crowded ante-chamber; ecclesiastics, men-at-arms, 
citizens, and artificers of all sorts were constantly 
coming and going, their business in many cases 
dispatched by my lord’s secretaries and servants. 
They would have used me thus if they could, bid- 
ding me leave my letter and come again; but I 
refused to deliver it save to my lord in person, and, 
after long waiting, I was called in. 

I found the Bishop seated in a carved chair, on 
a dais, clad in the rich garb of his office, with many 
attendants standing about him. As I fell to my 
knees, I caught sight also of a noble-looking man 
somewhat past middle age, in half-armour, who was 
seated near scanning some papers upon a table. 
This, though I knew it not at first, was the greatest 


g6 the knight OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

man in all England — Robert, Earl of Gloucester, 
half-brother to the Empress Matilda. He was truly 
a knight without fear and without reproach, the 
wisest in the council chamber, the foremost in the 
field. Had he fought for his own hand instead of 
for his sister, the realm might have had a king 
indeed. But he strove for the Empress to the last 
day of his life, and never had monarch a more faith- 
ful servant. 

My lord of Winchester perused my letter with 
scant attention, scrutinising most the seal and date. 
Then looking up he cried harshly: 

“ You have been long on the road, sirrah. The 
date of this is near two years old.’' 

'' May it please you, my lord, I have been 
stayed on the way;” and I told him how Ranulf 
Fitz-Dru had cast me into dungeon. What was 
Eitz-Dru’s feud against me? he then asked, and I 
was compelled to say how they accused me. I saw 
Earl Robert look up as I was speaking, and his 
keen eyes read me through. But he spoke no 
word, and the Bishop broke in again. 

“ How came Ranulf to let you go? He whom 
they call the Wolf is wont to keep what he holds; ” 
and my lord smiled sourly. 

“ Ay, and he meant to keep me,” I answered 
with anger, for the Bishop seemed almost to uphold 
Fitz-Dru; only, thanks be to Heaven and to good 
St. Edmund, I broke dungeon and escaped! May 
I lose my right hand if I do not make him suffer 
for it some day.” 


THE BISHOP WILL HAVE NONE OF ME. 57 

‘'Softly, sirrah, softly! You forget in whose 
presence you are speaking. If the good knight 
deemed you had dealt treacherously by his friend 
he was well within his rights. As to the rest, we 
will not have you about our person, as my lord 
Abbot and your uncle, the Prior, would pray; but 
out of love to them, that we may not reject their pe- 
tition altogether, you may join the band of Turstan 
the Black. I doubt not he will curb your froward 
temper.” 

" Craving your pardon, my lord,” interrupted 
Robert of Gloucester, “ I would have a word in 
that. The lad looks too good to hang by the way- 
side, as will be the fate of Turstan’s varlets. Give 
him to me; I can find better use for him. As for 
his saucy speech, I mind it not. Had we been two 
years in hold, I wot our words would not be of the 
mildest.” 

" Nay, there is more,” replied the Bishop. “ The 
youth hath an ill report already. He has been dis- 
missed his lord’s services for striking a foul blow; 
that is why he seeks my protection. Yonder lies 
the paper; read and see for yourself.” 

" By your leave, my lord,” said the Earl again, 
when he had read the letter carefully through, 
whilst I knelt with flaming cheeks not daring to 
utter a word. " By your leave, it is not writ quite 
as you say. See here, the Prior vouches for the 
boy’s innocence of his own certain knowledge. He 
will answer for him as for himself.” 

" I read not that; but it matters little,” returned 


g8 the knight of the golden CHA.IN. 

the Bishop carelessly, “ seeing that, though it is my 
lord Abbot’s seal, the missive is penned by the boy’s 
uncle. It is an ill bird that would foul its own 
nest — the good father is right to stand up for his 
own; but it does not follow that I give heed to 
him.” 

Then if you forbid me not, I would try the lad, 
my lord. I like his looks, and it will go hard if I 
find not out the truth. At the worst I can do better 
for him than Turstan. Give him to me, my lord, 
give him to me.” 

“ It is a boon soon granted, my lord Earl. I 
would all your requests were as easy. I am not 
sorry to wash my hands of him. Begone, sirrah; 
you serve my lord of Gloucester now. Trouble me 
not again, or it may be the worse for you.” And 
almost before I could rise to my feet, the attendants 
had hustled me out of the chamber. 

A short half-hour, and I was riding through the 
streets in the train of the great Earl, every man we 
met doing him obeisance. Yet was my heart sad 
within me. That fatal blow seemed to dog my foot- 
steps wherever I turned, as if I were never to escape 
from it. ^My new lord presently called me to his 
side to give me some directions, and I think he no- 
ticed my downcast mien, for soon after we arrived 
at the castle he sent for me to speak with him 
privily. 

'' Rise, boy, and speak without fear,” he said, as 
I knelt low before him. ‘‘ If you can clear yourself 
I am willing to listen; I condemn no man without 


THE BISHOP WILL HAVE NONE OF ME. gg 

a hearing. Look me in the face. Folk say I can 
read books well, but I vow I can read man better. 
You will have short shrift if you attempt to deceive 
me. Now, this foul blow they speak of, how was it? 
Tell me the whole story from the first.’^ 

But though his words were stern his manner 
was kindly, and I plucked up fresh heart to reply 
to him. 

“ And they did not believe though you swore 
on St. Edmund’s shrine,” he said thoughtfully, when 
I had come to an end of my tale. Yet you are 
over-young to be man-sworn; they must have had 
strong reason.” 

Then was I constrained by the look in his eyes 
to tell him of the finding of the knife, which at first 
I had not mentioned. 

Ah, now we come nearer to the kernel of the 
matter,” he cried sharply. ‘‘ How came your knife 
to be there?” 

It was not my knife, my lord,” I answered in 
a low voice, for the first time not daring to look up. 

You will swear to that?” 

“ Ay, my lord, on whatsoever holy relic you 
will ; ” and I raised my head again. 

'' And you know not the real owner? ” I must 
have changed colour or shown my apprehension in 
some way, for he cried almost gleefully: ''Ah, that 
touches you close, sir squire. Said I not that I 
could read men? Now will you swear to me what 
the dolts seem never to have asked, that you know 
nothing of the matter at all; that you can not point 


lOO the knight of the golden chain. 

me out the man who slew the lad — though, truly, it 
seems strange you should have kept silence.’' 

I gasped for breath, all power of speech seemed 
to have left me, I stood stricken dumb. The Earl’s 
mood changed directly. He came to my side, and, 
placing his hand upon my shoulder, said in gentle 
tone: "Tell me all, my lad; it will be best. If 
there be a secret, on the honour of a knight I can 
keep it well as you. Speak to me as if I were your 
father.” 

Thus adjured I had no choice but to tell the 
truth, though I showed my lord over and over again 
how it was no murder. “ It was the caitiff’s foul 
taunts first made my poor brother mad,” I said. 
“ Then his Viking blood rose hot within him, and 
he struck.” 

“ And your brother allowed that you should 
take his fault upon you?” 

Craving your pardon, my lord,” I answered 
stoutly, ‘‘ I protested my innocence all the time. 
Aylmer stood by my side at the shrine, and would 
have spoken even then had I not entreated him 
to be silent. He knew naught of the knife, naught 
of my captivity. I wot well he thought me safe 
with the Bishop long since. My uncle the Prior 
who is known to be a wise man, counselled that, else 
had we lost our lands, and Aylmer promised to 
obey him.” 

“ All the same, I think he counselled you 
wrongly, and that it would have been better if your 
brother had stood the brunt. But I blame not you. 


THE BISHOP WILL HAVE NONE OF ME. loi 

my young squire; you have suffered more than 
enough. If any man throw the matter in your teeth 
again, you may tell him Robert of Gloucester will 
stand your sponsor.'' 

I cast myself upon my knees, and raised his 
hand to my lips. Truly it was worth all 1 had gone 
through to have found such a noble protector. 

I had been in the service of the Earl for scarce 
three weeks when, to my grief, he appointed me 
other duties. He gave me a post in the household 
of the Lady of England, a position of trust, where 
it was my duty to attend to her always. It was 
great advancement for a poor squire, yet was I loth 
to quit the Earl, and he knew it. 

“ You will serve me best by serving your Sov- 
ereign Lady," he was pleased to say. “ Be as faith- 
ful to her as you were to your brother, and I will 
not forget it. It is a mark of my trust that I place 
you about her; she has need of faithful servants." 

I had seen the Lady often from afar — she was 
not to be called Queen until she was crowned, 
which never came to pass— but had not yet stood in 
her near presence. Now, however, the Earl led 
me to her chamber himself, and humbly entreated 
her favour for her new servant. She received my 
lord graciously enough, but deigned not to waste 
a glance upon me. That was her way with all, even 
with the great nobles. Matilda was ever haughty. 
It suited the Germans, subjects of her first hus- 
band; she won golden opinions among them — they 
had naught but praise for her demeanour. But it 


102 the knight of the golden chain. 

is ever thus with the German peoples, and I sup- 
pose it ever will be; they honour most a master 
who treats them as serfs and bondsmen. 

Unfortunately for the Lady’s prospects, the Nor- 
man nobles and English citizens would not long 
brook such treatment. It cost her London, and 
was the chief reason why, in the end, so many fell 
away from her. I served my mistress faithfully for 
sake of the good Earl, not because I cared over- 
much for her cause — and, of a certainty, not be- 
cause I loved her. She was more wont to inspire 
fear among her followers than affection. 


CHAPTER XIL 


WE MARCH INTO LONDON. 

We remained at Winchester for many weeks, 
and it was hard upon midsummer before the Em- 
press set forth for London, where she was to be 
solemnly crowned, the citizens, after much discon- 
tent and grumbling, having at length consented to 
receive her. David, King of Scots, Matilda’s gal- 
lant uncle, who fought for her long and valiantly, 
rode at her right hand when we entered the city, 
the noble Earl, her half-brother, on her left; behind 
followed a strong band of knights and squires and 
men-at-arms, and a numerous company of archers. 
We made a brave show as we rode through the 
streets, the sunlight shining on our arms, our ban- 
ners and pennons dancing in the breeze, whilst the 
rabble and the citizens who were of our party loudly 
acclaimed us. Who could have foretold, as they saw 
us riding proudly by, in how short a time all would 
be altered, how soon we should be fugitives flying 
for our lives. Not I, for one, and the change was 
so sudden, all took place so swiftly, that even now, 
when I look back upon those days, that ignoble 
flight from London seems but as some fleeting 
dream. 


103 


104 the knight of the golden chain. 

At the time, however, all looked well with us. 
Nearly the whole kingdom, save only the men of 
Kent, who still held out for Stephen, had made sub- 
mission, and our hearts beat high with triumph. 
For the short space we remained in the city I spent 
all the time I could with Ela, and the damsel grew 
upon me more and more. Dame Joan was having 
her instructed in all things pertaining to a noble 
maiden. She spoke Norman-French now as if bred 
in hall, and if she had not ever been so kind to me 
her sweet face would have made me feel abashed. 
For, indeed, she had shot up into a maiden exceed- 
ingly fair to see, and Dame Joan took care to let 
me know I was not the only one who thought so. 
I could have loitered thus for some time with much 
pleasure, but all too soon came the end, our fair 
prospects were rudely dashed to the ground. And 
the Lady herself was the cause of it all. 

Even before her arrival, the Empress had been 
much incensed by the constant grumbling of the 
citizens; they were for ever complaining of what 
they called infringement of their rights, and prating 
about the great charter given to them by Henry, 
her father. Once in the city, however, with her 
knights at her back, she thought all was safe; and 
when the Chamberlain and chief citizens waited 
upon her at the royal palace of Westminster, she 
demanded from them a large subsidy to be paid 
upon the spot, just as if she had entered as a con- 
queror. I saw them glance from one to the other 
in dismay; then presently the Chamberlain stand- 


WE MARCH INTO LONDON. 105 

ing forth humbly implored her clemency, or at the 
least that she would allow them a little time. But 
the Empress would not listen, and rated them open- 
ly. Make no mention of charters and privileges 
to me, when you have just been supporting my 
enemies,’’ she cried, with stern eyes and frowning 
brow. 

This language so incensed the citizens that the 
wise Earl, who stood by his sister’s side, took up the 
word and endeavoured by fair speech to conciliate 
them. Even the King of Scots, whose own sub- 
jects were wild beyond compare, did not hold with 
the lady’s demeanour; he spake some strong words 
to her, which I, who was hard by, could not help 
hearing. ' 

“ Nay, it is my brother who has the silver 
tongue,” cried the Empress jeeringly. See how, 
with open mouth, they hearken to him. As for 
me, I would not stoop to palter with low-born 
knaves, these townsmen are rebellious ever. A 
strong arm, an iron hand, and they know their 
master.” 

‘‘ You mistake, I think, fair niece, the men 
you have to do with,” King David answered. 
“ Gloucester hath soothed them somewhat. Speak 
them fair now, and all may yet be well.” 

But the Empress would not be persuaded to 
alter her arrogant demeanour, and once more, in 
imperious tones, demanded the subsidy. Hard 
words were bandied to and fro, the citizens for 
long . remaining obstinate. At last, they craved 


io6 the knight of the golden chain. 

leave to retire to their hall of common council, that 
they might take steps to provide the money. 

‘'Said I not so, my lords?'’ exclaimed Matilda 
exultingly, when the last citizen had departed; “ the 
craven knaves dare not resist my demands. By our 
Lady, but I will bring them to their senses. My 
father was too easy with them. I will renew no 
charters till it be my good pleasure; they shall pay 
me for my grace in gold." 

Only Earl Robert was sore grieved that the 
citizens had been so mishandled, and meant later to 
ride in and confer with them. They had quitted us 
with dark and lowering brows, sorrowful and un- 
satisfied, and muttering fiercely among themselves; 
yet we knew so little it only caused the most of us 
to laugh, and to wish them a better temper. I had 
marked both Walter and Master Gilbert amid the 
deputation; but they were too troubled and anxious 
to give heed to me, so much were they dismayed by 
their reception. 

Had we only known, had we guessed aught of 
what would happen, we might have taken precau- 
tions, and the result would have been different. As 
it was, no one had the slightest apprehension of 
danger, and our archers and men-at-arms were dis- 
persed about the city, not a man near when he was 
needed. Presently the Empress Matilda and her 
knights sat down to dinner in the new banqueting- 
hall, seasoning their repast with laugh and merry 
jest anent the bags of gold they expected the citi- 
zens would presently bring in. Even when, after a 


WE MARCH INTO LONDON. 


107 


time, the alarm bells began to peal from the London 
steeples, we took little note, save that a couple of 
messengers were sent to find out what was passing. 

I was at the upper end of the table, serving my 
mistress with some roasted larks upon the spit, 
when the end came. I had not yet risen from my 
knees, when suddenly there was a great commotion 
near the door, men pouring tumultuously into the 
hall, crying out, with white faces and scared looks, 
that the enemy were upon us — all was lost — until 
the place was filled with their clamour. The Em- 
press alone retained her composure — for, in truth, 
she was ever a woman of high courage — and con- 
tinued picking daintily at her birds, as if naught 
were amiss. 

There was such confusion that it was difficult at 
first to understand what it was all about, until the 
Earl’s voice, thundering above the rest, compelled a 
little silence. Then we learned that, enraged by 
the report brought back by their fellow-citizens, the 
Londoners had risen with one accord, and, armed 
with bows and bills, were swarming in the streets, 
like bees issuing from their hives, making ready to 
fall upon us. 

Before the tale was half told, Earl Robert and 
King David and most of the nobles in hall called 
for horse, and hastily rode off to try and allay the 
storm. But they seemed scarce to have left us ere 
they were back, and the Empress, who made very 
light of the matter, was still seated at the table when 
they burst in again, the Earl crying loudly: 


Io8 the knight of the golden chain. 

“To horse, fair sister, to horse! Haste, I pray 
you, ere the rabble be upon us ! ” 

“ Are we to fly, then, like cravens, without a 
blow? ” exclaimed the lady, starting to her feet in 
hot anger. “Where be our own knaves?” 

“ Melted as the mist before the sun. Some have 
fled; more have joined the enemy. The little band 
you see around are all.” 

The Empress turned upon her friends: “And 
you, Normans, and my own brave Angevins, are 
you willing to fly before a pack of noisy churls, 
who durst not withstand you for an hour?” 

“ By our Lady, you wrong us,” cried Arnald de 
Cereville, a noble of Anjou. “ In open field we 
would mow them down, ride over them like the 
vermin they are. But in their own narrow streets 
we have no chance; they are too many for us.” 

“ It is not only the citizens,” broke in another. 
“There is a band of horsemen the other side the 
river, and the banner they display belongs to Maud 
of Boulogne, the wife of Stephen.” 

“ Ay, it is true,” said Earl Robert, seeing that 
Matilda looked incredulous. Heaven helping us, 
we m.ay fight another day; but now if you mount 
not with all speed it will be your turn to pray in 
vain for ransom.” 

This allusion to Stephen, still fast in ward in 
Bristol Castle, touched the Empress closely. Eor 
my lord had advised that he should be set free long 
ago, when his wife had promised for him that he 
should quit the country or enter a cloister. But the 


WE MARCH INTO LONDON. 109 

Empress would not hear of her enemy’s release. 
There had been love passages, it was whispered — 
though I say not there was any truth in the tale — 
between her and Stephen in their youth, so that 
besides being the rival claimant for the throne, she 
had the anger of a jealous woman to gratify. At all 
events, the Lady Matilda heard reason now. Di- 
rectly she knew of the horsemen she was as eager 
to be gone as we. Mounting in haste, she took her 
place in the midst of us, and all made off at a gal- 
lop. Scarce had we passed beyond the village when 
we heard the shouts and cries of the rabble break- 
ing into the palace we had just quitted. They 
found none to oppose them, and plundered and de- 
stroyed everything we had left behind us. 

At first, we cast many a backward glance, and 
the best armed among us guarded the rear; but 
there was no pursuit. The citizens did not attempt 
to follow, but seemed satisfied at being quit of us. 
After a time, seeing that there was no danger of 
attack, the Earl called a short halt to decide upon 
our future movements. There was much hurried 
talk, some advising one thing, some another; but 
at length it was decided that we should make for 
the city of Oxford and take refuge in the strong 
castle until we could hold our own again. Mean- 
time David of Scotland was to ride northwards and 
seek for succour among his friends. He quitted us 
soon after, and we rode on with heavy hearts, no 
mirth among us now, only gloom and dismal fore- 
bodings. 


no THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

Had we fought and lost, it would have been but 
the fortune of war; but to fly without a blow, to 
count for so little that the enemy troubled not even 
to pursue us, our fall was great indeed. 

Only the Earl seemed no whit dismayed, though, 
after all, it might have been but his policy. Ele 
rode cheerily on, now talking with his sister, now 
casting to his friends some merry jest, or more often 
speaking gravely upon what he purposed as soon 
as we were safe in Oxford. 

After it grew dusk a strange thing happened. 
All those gallant nobles upon whom the Empress 
placed so much reliance — forgetting their mistress 
and thinking only of their own escape — gradually 
left us. Not at once in a body — they stole off one 
by one, down by-ways or cross-roads as they found 
opportunity, so that at first they were scarce missed 
save by those who rode beside them. I heard the 
Earl mutter an oath under his breath when he first 
noticed our scanty numbers; but he said naught, 
only curled his lip in disdain, and, laying his hand 
upon his sister’s bridle, rode on without a pause. 

He never looked back again, never turned once, 
until we reached the gates of Oxford. Then was he 
wroth indeed. Out of all the knights who had rid- 
den in the Lady’s train when she quitted London he 
himself alone remained; every one of the others had 
deserted her. There followed behind him none but 
his own two squires and myself. ‘‘ By St. Edward! 
but I will remember it to them ! ” he cried fiercely. 
The Empress said naught. She seemed over- 


WE MARCH INTO LONDON. i 1 1 

whelmed at the sudden change, and, besides, was 
near worn out by the hurried journey. 

We had some ado to get into the town; the 
gates had long been closed. The guard would not 
believe that it was the Earl of Gloucester wno sum- 
moned them, and that the drooping woman by his 
side was the haughty Lady of England. They little 
thought to see us come in such guise. They feared 
treachery even though we were so few, and sum- 
moned Robert D’Oilgi, the warden of the city, be- 
fore suffering us to enter. Once within, however, 
our troubles for the time were over; we were among 
trusty friends, and the Empress soon recovered her 
high courage. Unhappily, her misfortunes had 
taught her nothing. She remained as haughty and 
imperious as before, and, of all men m the world, 
chose now to offend the powerful Bishop of Win- 
chester. He had proposed that his nephew Eus- 
tace, son to King Stephen, a boy of tender years, 
should be made Count of Boulogne, as his father 
had been before him; at least for so long as Ste- 
phen remained in captivity. But the Empress 
would not hearken to him, and it was rumoured 
that she had already promised the countship to an- 
other. My lord Bishop was greatly ofTended by this 
repulse, and withdrew himself from the Lady’s Court. 

Gundulf had not shared in our hurried flight to 
Oxford; he had been out of the way when the 
alarm was given, and there was no time to summon 
him. It was not until quite a week later that he ap- 
peared before me. 


I 12 the knight of the golden chain. 

“ I felt so sure, my lord, you would make for 
Winchester,” he said half guiltily, “ that I rode 
thither without a question. You have led me a 
pretty dance, truly; yet I think not that my pains 

have been wasted, for ” And here, lowering 

his voice, he told me what he had gathered on the 
way. How it was whispered that my lord of Win- 
chester had held a friendly conference with Queen 
Maud, Stephen’s wife, at Guilford, and being 
wrought upon by her tears and the concessions she 
made to him, had promised to set his mind to the 
deliverance of her husband. The Bishop was also 
speaking openly against the Empress, accusing her 
of breaking her word and the engagements she had 
sworn to him. I thought Gundulf’s news of such 
import that I took him at once to Earl Robert, who 
heard it all with little surprise. 

'' I ever feared something of the kind,” he mut- 
tered gloomily, “ though I hoped that for very 
shame’s sake Henry of Blois would not turn 
again. Still he hath not yet openly declared him- 
self, and if my sister of England give way in the 
matter of the countship, he may hold to us spite of 
all. We shall know soon; I am sending Hugo 
Fitz-Clare even now on a special mission to my 
lord Bishop. Not that I put overmuch faith in 
Hugo, but he hath asked for the service and I may 
not refuse him. You, Alain, shall ride in his train 
and carry privily a letter to the Provost of the city. 
He is a true man, and will give us wise counsel; 
if he order you in aught it will be best to obey 


WE MARCH INTO LONDON. 113 

him. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut, 
yet look not too overwise as now, lest others should 
suspect you by your bearing.'' 

For, on hearing how my lord meant to honour 
me, I had drawn up erect, and assumed the air of a 
person of consequence. 

Be content to look the foolish youth you are," 
the Earl added with a grim smile; “and it would 
be a wise man, I trow, who guessed you in my 
confidence." 

I looked foolish enough then, I warrant you, 
and my lord concluded his directions without fur- 
ther ado. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

HENRY OF BLOIS TURNS AGAIN. 

My ostensible errand at Winchester was to take 
certain commands for my mistress to her gold- 
smith and her mercer; women’s business, which 
even at this stress of fortune she assumed not to lay 
aside. My comrades jeered at me somewhat for 
being set to such work, dubbing me, though it was 
all in good humour, the silken squire, my lad} s 
page. Their contempt served one good purpose, as 
doubtless my lord intended. When we reached the 
city they were in nowise curious as to my move- 
ments, I could go in and out unquestioned. 

I found Winchester apparently just as we had 
left it. The banner of the Empress still floated from 
palace and castle, the townspeople pursued their 
business as usual, the men-at-arms idled about the 
streets. So calm everything seemed, so unruffled, 
almost I thought it had been a false alarm. That 
was at first, because I was so slow to perceive; but 
after, when I had strolled about for awhile waiting 
to get private speech with the Provost, it gradually 
came to me that the Bishop’s men were strangely 
few. They were wont at most times to pervade the 
114 


HENRY OF BLOIS TURNS AGAIN. 


II5 

place, drinking at taverns, jesting with the citizens’ 
wives, brawling with any who opposed them. Now 
there seemed scarce a trace of them abroad, almost 
every man I passed belonged to the castle. Oh 
ho,” thought I to myself, “ so my lord keeps his 
men in ward. Then is something afoot indeed, and 
the good Bishop means mischief.” 

The Provost received me somewhat coldly. He 
was disappointed, I fear, at the insignificance of the 
messenger, he had looked to receive his token from 
the hands of Fitz-Clare himself. It was not my 
place to tell the worthy man the Earl but half 
trusted that good knight, so I held my peace, beg- 
ging only to know if he had any word for me. 

“ Nothing, nothing,” he cried testily — that is, 
not as yet; I must wait until my news be sure. 
My lord has bidden us of the city to a great ban- 
quet to-morrow; something of import is in the wind, 
I doubt not — he is little used to be so gracious. 
Come to me after, say at three of the clock — I may, 
perchance, have an answer to your letter, if I can 
trust you with it ” ; and he muttered something 
under his breath of affairs of State and beardless 
boys which I pretended not to hear. 

The Provost had been surly enough, but his 
words showed I might need to ride at short notice, 
and I took measures accordingly. Fitz-Clare and 
his train — I, of course, among them — were quar- 
tered in the castle, and I gave orders to Gundulf 
to watch well the horses that we might be able to 
depart at any moment. 


Il6 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

“ Then, by your leave, my lord,” he returned 
directly, “ I will find some excuse to change their 
stalls. It is too public here to bring them forth 
without questioning, and he rides safest, methinks, 
who slips away.” 

“ Be that as you will, Gundulf ; only see that 
they be ready without delay when I call foi them. 

After that I troubled no more, knowing how 
well I could trust my faithful follower. 

Next day, after dinner, I was lounging on the 
battlements over the gateway, passing the hours m 
idle fashion with some of my fellow-squires until it 
should be time for me to wait upon the Provost. 
The gateway overlooked both town and castle, so 
that we could gaze at our choice upon courtyard 
within or street without, and it was seldom there 
was not something going on to pleasure us. Thus, 
now, in one corner of the courtyard were a couple 
of ragged jongleurs, one man lightly twanging his 
harp, whilst the other played with balls, leminding 
me of mv old companions, and causing me to think 
of the little maid. The dexterity of the fellow was 
something marvellous j he far outdid Jocellus, and 
the archers and grooms crowded round, applaud- 
ing loudly, whilst we looked on from above. We 
were still absorbed in watching him when Hugo 
Fitz-Clare came down the steps from one of the 
upper chambers, followed by his armourer, whom 
he was rating fiercely. 

“ Turn quick, ere we be seen, cried one, a 
youth who was but just out of his pageship, “ lest 


HENRY OF BLOIS TURNS AGAIN. 117 

my lord call us down to him. He has been in a 
hot temper all day. My shoulders ache yet from 
the drubbing he gave me this morning.” 

Perchance it is because he has not been in- 
vited to the Bishop’s banquet,” cried another, as we 
crossed to the other side. 

That is scarce likely, seeing the Bishop enter- 
tains but the citizens and such-like. I marvel, 
rather, that Henry of Blois condescends so far. 
And besides, my lord is to sup at the palace to- 
night. The Bishop has something for my lord’s 
own ear; I heard the messenger say so myself.” 

And prate of it afterward before all the world,” 
exclaimed an older one who had not yet spoken. 
“No wonder your shoulders are sore. Pray, if my 
lord come to hear of it, that his stirrup-leather be 
not close at hand, or I warrant you they will ache 
for a week.” 

“ If he do hear, I shall know who told him,” re- 
torted the boy angrily; and how the quarrel would 
have ended I know not. Most like in blows, only 
there chanced at that moment a sudden interruption. 

“See! See who comes yonder, riding as with 
outstretched wings!” was the cry; and with one 
consent we all craned forward, forgetting every- 
thing but the sight before us. 

It was indeed a strange-looking figure we now 
saw advancing. A man riding at full speed, wear- 
ing a long furred coat, blown about in such gro- 
tesque fashion by the wind, one could not help 
‘bursting into laughter. One moment it would be 


Il8 THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

flying wide, truly, as they said, as if the rider had 
wings; the next it would suddenly drop, enveloping 
horse and man alike, until I wonder they came not 

to a stand. _ _ . -r,- u 

“ Faith,! know that mantle,” cried Milo of Kith- 

erden, he who had rebuked the page for prating. 

“ I rode close behind when the Empress entered 
Winchester. By St. Edward, it is the Provost him- 
self, and it is not gone noon — the banquet can 
scarce be over. What brings him hither m such a 
hurry?” 

It was indeed the Provost, as now that he came 
nearer I could see for myself. He had quitted the 
palace in such haste he had not stayed even to 
gather up his robes. 

“ Our Lady preserve us, but there is something 
afoot; ” and we raced below, almost tumbling over 
one another in our eagerness to be foremost. 

The drawbridge had been down all the morn- 
ing and by the time we reached it the warder had 
thrown the gate open, so that the Provost rode on 
with unslackened speed until within the castle walls. 
Then he pulled up short, and, after a keen glance, 
which seemed to take in everything— the sentry 
looking down from the battlements, the men still 
loitering in the courtyard, our puzzled faces as we 
gathered round — muttered with an air of satisfac- 

tion: . . 1 

St. Swithin be praised, I am in time; the ola 

fox hath not forestalled me here.” Then ordering 
the drawbridge to be raised and the portcullis low- 


HENRY OF BLOIS TURNS AGAIN. ng 

ered with all speed, he called for the captain of the 
garrison, and spoke with him aside. 

When the captain presently hurried away I drew 
near, as if to help the Provost with his robe, at 
which he was now tugging impatiently. I was in 
hopes he might have a word for me; but instead, 
he waved me aside as if I had been one of his ap- 
prentices, and went into the castle with Fitz- Clare. 

“ A lesson to you, my squire of dames, not to 
proffer service to a fat citizen,’’ cried Milo, laughing 
at my rebuff. Best keep to your mistress, my 
silken page; her tire- woman will spirit you more 
gently.” 

His gibe was half earnest; he was still sore from 
his quarrel with his fellow; but I only laughed, and 
soon, eager to find out the news, they all dispersed. 

As I stood for a moment alone, Gundulf, who 
had been watching his opportunity, came to my 
side. 

“Shall I make the horses ready, my lord?” he 
asked in a low tone. “ Think you to be riding 
soon? ” 

“ It is hard to say, Gundulf. If the Provost 
chooses Fitz-Clare for his messenger methinks 
there will be time enough; the good knight is not 
wont to hurry himself. Still, there can be no harm 
in making ready. I will follow within — though the 
Provost was so surly just now he may yet send for 
me after Hugo has left him.” 

Neither the Provost nor Fitz-Clare could be 
seen in the hall, but I knew the little private cham- 


120 the knight of the golden chain. 

ber where they would be, and, taking up my post 
near the door, climbed into a high window-niche 
to escape observation. I could hear nothing, the 
door was fast closed, and the walls were thick; but 
at least I should be at hand if the Provost called 
for me. 

There seemed a long time of waiting; then the 
door was flung open violently, and Hugo Fitz- 
Clare strode out. He came with a great appearance 
of anger, stamping his feet and swearing big oaths, 
yet the instant the door swung to his face changed; 
he broke into a fit of silent laughter. He did not 
observe me, and walked off, not knowing he had 
been watched. After that I did not hesitate, but, 
jumping down, slipped into the room. The Pro- 
vost did not perceive me at first; he was seated 
with his back to the door; but from the words to 
which he was giving utterance there was no pre- 
tence about his anger. Then he turned quickly and 
saw me. 

“ How now, sirrah, what brings you here? ” he 
thundered. 

“ Did you not bid me wait upon you at three 
of the clock?” I returned, with courtesy scant as 
his own. “ It is not yet the hour, but I thought 
perchance you might have need of me.” 

“ I may have need enough, but if you are like 
your master, little good shall I get from you, I 
trow.” 

“ Hugo Fitz-Clare is not my master. I serve 
the Lady of England and Robert the Earl,” I in- 


HENRY OF BLOIS TURNS AGAIN. 


I2I 


terrupted; but he went on as if he heard me 
not: 

My lord can not ride to-day, forsooth, his 
horses need shoeing, his armour hath come un- 
wrought, his men are scattered, and I know not 
what other excuses. Perdition take him for a sloth- 
ful knave. He will ride forth to-morrow — aye, to- 
morrow — and by then, maybe, they will hold the 
road. William of Ypres is not to be caught nap- 
ping.’’ 

He paused here for very fury, and I broke in: 

‘‘ Perchance the knight prefers rather to keep 
his tryst with the Bishop. He sups at the palace to- 
night; my lord of Winchester hath something for 
his private ear.” 

The Provost looked up startled. “ Oh ho, is 
that how the wind blows? Fool that I am, I might 
have known it. By St. Swithin, an he go out he 
shall not come in again. I want no traitors 
here.” 

‘‘ Then, good Master Provost, since the man 
hath failed you, why not try the beardless boy? I 
will not wait until to-morrow. Give me letter or 
message to the Earl, and it shall reach his hands, I 
vow, ere midnight.” 

He looked at me coldly, though I could see my 
speech moved him. 

“ Brave words, brave words, but small warrant, 
I doubt, for performance. What canst do to show 
thou art in earnest?” 

My horse is waiting for me even now,” I re- 
9 


122 the knight of THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

plied. '' Give but the word and my foot is in stir- 
rup.'' • 

“You would ride alone?" 

“ With one follower only, a faithful servant who 
would carry on the message should aught befall 
me." 

“ Then, in Heaven's name, have it your own 
way. I shall know soon enough if you fail me! 
I have no time to write; I must see to provisioning 
the castle; we are but poorly victualled if it come 
to a siege. Tell my lord the Earl that Henry of 
Blois plays us false, and that ere long the banner 
of Stephen will float from Wolvesey Palace. It 
would have been raised here also, but I was too 
quick for him. Tell my lord, the Bishop bade the 
chief men of the city to a banquet this day, and 
there unfolded his purpose. I left them listening 
like sheep whilst I slipped forth before the gates 
were barred, and galloped off to make sure of the 
castle. Tell him also, that if he come not at once, 
the fortress will be lost to him. Stephen's general, 
William of Ypres, is leading his Flemish hirelings 
hither as fast as they can march, and we have no 
force to withstand them. Now go, and Heaven be 
your guide. If my message reach the Earl in time, 
I will crave pardon for distrusting you." 

“ If it do not, I am prisoner or dead man," I 
cried quickly; and without another word I left him. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

I SEEK ROBERT OF GLOUCESTER. 

I MADE all haste into the courtyard, but at first 
looked around in vain for Gundulf. The scene was 
now much changed. The jongleurs had disap- 
peared, men were hurrying to and fro intent upon 
their various duties, and a half-score of archers were 
busied about a couple of waggons they were to take 
into the city for provision. The drawbridge was 
upon the very point of being lowered to let them 
out; Fitz-Clare and his followers were not visible; 
there could not be better opportunity for me to slip 
away unseen. Where was Gundulf? I thought im- 
patiently, for I knew not where to seek him, or in 
what corner he had bestowed the horses. Surely 
he was not going to fail me! 

Even as the fear entered my mind, Gundulf came 
forth from behind the second waggon. He was 
mounted on Dickon, leading my horse by the bridle. 
Without a word I sprang into my seat, and we fell 
in with the escort as if belonging to them. The 
Provost came forth to give some last orders as we 
were setting forth, and his grim start of surprise on 
perceiving me was a sight to see. He had not be- 

123 


124 the knight of the golden chain. 

lieved me after all; he had thought my boast of 
being ready mere idle vaunting. He made no sign, 
but I could see he was well pleased, and, taking it 
as a good omen, I went on my way stout-hearted. 

We rode beside the waggons until they were well 
within the city streets; then I turned and made for 
the northern gate. The west postern was our near- 
est; but it was too close to the castle walls, and I 
cared not for my late friends to know I was quitting 
the city. On our way I told Gundulf what I had 
heard from the Provost, and how it behoved us to 
reach Oxford with all speed. 

“ If William of Ypres is at hand, my lord,” he 
replied, “needs must that we ride warily; he ever 
sends out small parties to scour the loads around. 
If you think fit, we will quit the main track for 
a time, and take a by-path until we are well on 
the way. It is somewhat rough, but it will keep 
us out of his road. As for reaching Oxford ere 
midnight that is no great thing, provided only that 
the beasts hold out. I can answer for Dickon 
here, I know not so much of the horse you are 
bestriding. If we can find a fresh mount on the 
road, it will be well. We turn off here, my lord. 
By your leave, I will ride first to show the way.” 

It was by a lonely track indeed that Gundulf led 
me, across bare down and heathy waste, into thick 
forest of holly and yew, and oak and beechen dells; 
where the trees met above our heads, and the horses 
footed it softly on fallen leaves. So close in places 
was the leafy screen, the setting sun could not even 


1 SEEK ROBERT OF GLOUCESTER. 125 

pierce through to glint upon my armour. When 
the forest ceased we came upon more miles of open 
waste, desolate land without a sign, save one, of 
human habitation. This was in a little hollow be- 
tween two hills, where we rode through the remains 
of what had been a fair hamlet beside a flowing 
stream. A few of the rude huts were still partly 
standing, but the greater number were in rums, 
whilst the fields around, which had once been care- 
fully tilled, were fast going back to waste. 

“ What has chanced to the people here, Gun- 
dulf? ” I asked. “ How comes it that the place is 
left desolate? ” 

It is the wars, my lord,” he answered gloom- 
ily. “ It is naught but the wars. I told you long 
ago that the poor churls have to pay for all. They 
sowed here, and they planted; the fields were green 
with oats and rve. But their lord was for Stephen, 
so Earl Robert’s men came down upon them, and 
set fire to the crops and houses as you see. If 
Heaven grant not the wars to cease, soon there will 
be no corn grown in all England; already have the 
people been perishing for lack of food. No won- 
der they have to bring over Flemish dogs to fight 
their battles, ravening wolves who — hist! what is 
that?” And he drew rein quickly, holding up his 
hand for silence. 

Gundulf’s ears were sharper than mine, for at 
first I could hear nothing. There was the cry of a 
night-hawk sailing above our heads, a distant bark- 
ing from some restless dog, a rustling of the leaves 


126 the knight of the golden chain. 

in the rising wind. But cause for alarm I could 
find none, until Gundulf said once more: 

“ Hist again; listen now.” 

Then at last I distinguished a faint sound not 
belonging to the night, which grew plainer to my 
ears every moment. Yet for the life of me I could 
not tell what it was. 

“ What is it, Gundulf? ” I whispered. 

He laughed. 

“ Listen yet once more, my lord; they are far 
off as yet. Presently it will sound clearer.” 

But even as he spoke, a sudden gust of wind 
blew the sound my way, and I knew it. A low 
rumbling that might have been taken for distant 
thunder — the tramping of many horses — mingled 
with sharper sounds — the ringing clatter of steel. 

By St. Edmund, it is the tramp of men-at- 
arms!” I cried aloud. ‘‘I can hear the clank of 
their armour.” 

“ Ay, ’tis so,” Gundulf returned calmly. We 
did well to turn aside. The Earl’s men on the 
march would scarce come that way. ’Tis a troop, 
I doubt not, belonging to William of Ypres. We 
can ride on; they will not hear us — they make too 
much noise themselves — and they will be far off ere 
we strike the road.” 

We heard the tramp of them nearer and nearer, 
until I thought surely they must become aware of 
us, though Gundulf rode on unheeding; then they 
were past, the sounds slowly died away, and all was 
quiet again. It was near upon fifty miles from 


I SEEK ROBERT OF GLOUCESTER. 127 

Winchester to Oxford, by the way we went; and, 
though we had not quitted the castle until hard 
upon the third hour after noon, I calculated that 
with good fortune I might easily keep my word, and 
come at the Earl before midnight. Had we been 
able to obtain a fresh horse we could have done it 
in less time; but, though we tried once, they 
brought out such sorry nags I chose rather to keep 
my own. Thus we were compelled perforce to stay 
now and again to give the beasts breathing space, 
and to go gently when the way was rough, lest a 
sudden fall should undo us. At least that is what 
chanced to me — Dickon was surefooted enough and 
did not need much easing. 

All went well for the greater part of the way, 
even until we were within a few miles of our goal. 
True, the horses were much blown; I had to ply 
spur unceasingly, but the distance was so short now, 
I made sure all was safe. 

“We shall do it!” I cried joyfully. ‘'The 
crabbed Provost will have to crave my pardon as 
he promised.’’ But as the words left my lips my 
horse stopped short so suddenly it is a marvel I 
went not over his head. I recovered my seat in a 
moment; but on attempting to spur the brute on 
again, found he had fallen dead lame. I strove with 
him all I knew, but he could scarce walk. I fell 
into a fine rage; I had so set my mind on getting 
the better of the Provost, and he would style me a, 
bragging boy after all. 

“ Trouble not yourself, my lord,” cried Gun- 


128 the knight of the golden chain. 

dulf; ‘‘ there is no reason why you should not keep 
your word. Leave the horse to me and take Dick- 
on. There is still some strength in him, and your 
weight is lighter than mine.” 

“ I will make it lighter still,” I exclaimed. Un- 
buckle my corselet, cast that helmet to the ground, 
off with this heavy sword.” I was not fully armed, 
and Gundulf had carried my helmet at his saddle- 
bow; but I had enough mail about me to make me 
ride heavily. 

“ And if night-birds be about, my lord? It is 
scarce safe to ride unarmed.” 

I fear them not. I keep my knife, and my 
jerkin is stout enough to turn away an ill-aimed ar- 
row; be sure I shall not give them time to shoot 
straight. I pray Dickon do not fail me. If all 
go well I will send help to you when I reach the 
gate; it will be a sure token I am safe.” And 
with that I was off, Dickon, freshened by his short 
rest and my lighter weight, bearing me along 
bravely. 

I scarce used either whip or spur, yet we reached 
the city soon enough even for my impatience. I 
was not kept long at the gates; the guard were on 
the watch for news from Winchester; and, after 
ordering assistance to be sent to Gundulf, I clattered 
through the streets to the castle, and soon stood be- 
fore my lord. The Earl was in bed and asleep; 
but when told of my arrival he waited not even to 
dress, he had me brought to his bedside. I gave 
my message, telling all that had chanced exactly 


I SEEK ROBERT OF GLOUCESTER. 129 

as the Provost had bidden me, and it moved him 
to hot anger against the Bishop. 

“ Now is my lord of Winchester thrice per- 
jured,’’ he cried bitterly. “ Scarce is it three months 
since he swore allegiance to my sister. It was a 
bad day for us when she angered those London citi- 
zens. But all is not lost yet. We still have Ste- 
phen fast in hold; and, thanks to the Provost, the 
Bishop may find his claws clipped. Since you left, 
David of Scotland is with us again. He has 
brought a strong troop with him. Perchance 
Henry of Blois may turn yet once more when he 
hears of it. As for you, Alain Totinge, go now 
and rest awhile; for when we march at dawn you 
shall carry the banner before the Empress. I will 
tell her of your zeal, and she shall reward you. We 
have not so many faithful followers that we can 
afford to neglect them.” 

At that moment, they struck midnight upon the 
castle bell. 

I crave but one boon, my lord,” I cried. 
“ That you tell the Provost with your own lips his 
message reached you ere midnight.” 

“ Set you store by that? ” And he smiled grim- 
ly, as if he understood. The worthy man mis- 
liked it, I fear, that my messenger was but a strip- 
ling. By my patron saint I will not fail to tell him ; 
it is a small thing to ask. And for the beast you 
have lost, you shall have one out of my own sta- 
bles. Send thither before we start; it will be 
ready for you. Now begone, and order in my var- 


130 the knight of the golden chain. 

lets. I must be up and doing; there is no time 
to lose.’’ 

I had my good horse, which truly was all I had 
expected; and later, when to my triumph the Pro- 
vost kept his word and craved my pardon, he gave 
me some silver pieces for Gundulf. But from the 
Empress got I nothing, not even a gracious word. 
I cared not, I was the Earl’s man, whatever befell; 
but it was not thus the good Queen Maud treated 
her followers, else had they scarce held her so 
faithfully. 

When I left the Earl I went to see that Dickon 
had been well cared for; then returned to hall until 
it should be time to wait upon my mistress. I had 
not meant to sleep, but was so wearied by my long 
ride that scarce had I sat down, when Gundulf was 
shaking my shoulder, and, lo! it was day-dawn. 

I have brought your sword and mail, my lord,” 
he said. Will it please you to put them on? The 
Empress is presently starting.” 

I was on my feet in an instant. “You are back, 
Gundulf? That is well. You know that I was in 
time? ” 

'' I had little doubt about that when I saw how 
Dickon made off with you. The other beast will 
not be much the worse. I brought him in slowly, 
and a few days’ rest will put him on his feet again.” 

Then shall I have the spare horse you so much 
wanted for me; the Earl has given me one but now 
from his own stables ; ” and whilst he was arming 
me, I told him how gracious my lord had been. 


I SEEK ROBERT OF GLOUCESTER. 13 1 

'' That is good, you will make a brave show be- 
fore your fellows such as I love to see. The rascal 
grooms talk of naught but their masters’ riches. 
Now, I shall be able to brag me with the rest of 
them.” 

“ Nay, brag not lest there come a fall, Gundulf,” 
I answered, laughing. But have done quick, and 
let me be gone. I am to bear the banner before my 
royal mistress.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE bishop’s riddle. 

It was drawing toward sundown when we came 
in sight of the spires of Winchester, and whilst we 
were yet far off the Empress — who would not be- 
lieve that the Bishop meant to forsake her — dis- 
patched a herald in advance summoning him to a 
conference at the castle. She had matters of im- 
port to impart, was her word, and she prayed him 
to attend her. Then she rode on, accompanied only 
by Earl Robert and a few knights, leaving the body 
of her troops to follow at leisure. 

The herald was not long in returning, he met us 
still on the way; but to the lady’s gracious mes- 
sage the Bishop sent for answer only the two words, 
“ Parabo meP 

Parabo me! I will prepare myself!” cried 
Robert the Earl. My lord of Winchester will 
prepare himself! Now who can read to us the 
Bishop’s riddle?” And he drew aside for a space 
with Milo of Hereford and another, to confer to- 
gether with the Empress. 

Yet did my lord Bishop not leave us long in 
doubt as to his meaning. We had halted at a short 
132 


THE BISHOP’S RIDDLE. 


133 


distance to await the issue of their discussion, when 
Robert D’Oilgi, warden of Oxford, who rode with 
US, exclaimed in startled tones: 

What make you, friends, of that cloud of dust 


yonder?’' 

It is a body of horsemen riding at full gallop,” 
returned another, after a long look. If there 
were not also a cloud by the way we have just come, 
showing that our own men are close at hand, I 
much fear it might portend evil.” 

We all turned with one accord, and lo! it was 
true. There was a second cloud nearer than the 
first. We could catch the echoes of the ringing 
steel. As we watched I doubted much in my heart 


whether those advancing so rapidly were indeed our 
friends, but it was not for me to speak. I was only 
among them because I bore the banner; it would 
have been presumption for me to interfere. But yet 
a few minutes and the doubt spread to others. 

“By our Lady, those be not our men!” cried 
D’Oilgi. “ They are the Bishop’s troops; they have 
ridden round to cut us off. They mean to capture 
the Empress; it was ill done of her to ride forward 
with so few. Haste thee now, my lord of Glouces- 
ter, the foe are upon us! Quick for the castle; it 
is our only chance ! ” 

Matilda did not wait for a second word; she 
was becoming used to these sudden surprises; and, 
setting spurs to her horse, galloped ahead of all, 
we following close behind her. It was as stiff a race 
as ever I took part in, they were so near upon our 


134 the knight of the golden chain. 

heels. Had they overtaken us we had all been cap- 
tured for a certainty, and the fate of England might 
have changed. They did not quit until we were 
beneath the walls of the citadel, when at last very 
reluctantly they drew rein, lamenting much, I doubt 
not, their ill luck. And thus it was that my lord 
of Winchester showed the Empress what he meant 
by his message: “ I will prepare myself.'' 

After this, men gathered to the Bishop's stand- 
ard every day, and directly he felt strong enough he 
openly raised the banner of Stephen. Nor did the 
Empress remain idle. She summoned her partisans 
by proclamation, and the earls and barons who yet 
remained faithful to her cause mustered their fol- 
lowers in great force, until all England was there 
in arms, and the struggle began in earnest. Yet 
was it the Bishop's men who destroyed the city. 
Earl Robert had more regard for it. “ What use to 
burn the town?" he said. '‘It will not avail us 
aught, and will scarce teach the citizens to serve us 
better." But William of Ypres had no such scru- 
ples, and my lord Bishop retired to his abbey of 
Walthamstow directly he knew the Empress had 
reached the castle in safety, leaving the freebooter 
to work his will. 

They cast fireballs from the high tower of Wol- 
vesey upon the houses where many of our men were 
quartered, and St. Mary's Abbey for nuns was soon 
burnt to the ground. This was but the beginning; 
the high wind carried the flames across the Cyp, 
and the north quarters were soon ablaze even to the 


THE BISHOP’S RIDDLE. 


135 


walls. And this continued day after day. The un- 
fortunate citizens did what they could to subdue 
the flames; but as fast as they were extinguished in 
one place, they would break out in another, so 
ceaselessly did the ruthless Flemings hurl their 
burning brands. In the end the city was reduced 
almost to ashes, and the people were houseless. St. 
Swithin’s Cathedral and the buildings around alone 
escaped, and this the monks owed to Earl Robert. 
It stood so close to Wolvesey that the fireballs 
passed over; had my lord but once cast missiles 
from his side, as he well might have done, nothing 
could have saved it. I thought of Walter the mer- 
chanf s brave words when I looked upon Winches- 
ter in its desolation. 

And, besides the fire, there was ever fighting in 
the streets, perpetual skirmishes, attended with 
great losses on both sides. The castle was too 
strong to be assaulted, else had their greater num- 
bers, perhaps, undone us; for all too soon the gar- 
rison of the palace was strongly reinforced, Ste- 
phen’s wife. Queen Maud, marching in at the head 
of a large body of Londoners and men of Kent. 
But if they could not assault us, they could reduce 
us by famine. They sent out roving bands far and 
near, and carefully watched every road to prevent 
provisions reaching us. 

At this crisis Earl Robert called a council of 
the chief men, and it was decided by common con- 
sent that a strong garrison should be placed within 
the town of Andover, and a fort constructed at a 


136 the knight of the golden chain. 

place called Wherwell, where was a nunnery built 
by Queen Elfrida after the death of Edward the 
Martyr. It was close upon the banks of the river 
Test, hard by the ford; if we were to obtain sup- 
plies at all it was necessary that this passage should 
be well guarded. To my joy, I was allowed to 
join the expedition. I was tired of being cooped up 
within walls, and, though I struck many a good 
blow in the streets, it was inglorious work at best; 
little honour was to be gained from it. Now to 
build a fort at Wherwell was a work of some dan- 
ger; the enemy would be sure to attack us; we 
should have to fight hard to hold our own. 

Forth we rode, about three hundred strong, 
under command of a gallant knight, one Haimo of 
Ivri, to whose especial service I was attached. We 
set to work with a will, and in a very short time 
erected a small fort from whence we could sally 
forth to protect the ford. Scarce a bow-shot from 
our building, and close upon the great forest of 
Harewood, stood the peaceful nunnery I have al- 
ready spoken of, wherein holy women offered up 
their orisons night and day. We laughed a little 
as we noted how fast they kept their gates barred 
against us, and one said to another that if the foe 
came in force the poor ladies were likely to be rude- 
ly fluttered. Had I guessed who was among them 
I should scarce have taken the matter so lightly. 

We had slight alarms now and again. Small 
bodies of horsemen made raids on the country 
round, but when they saw our numbers and the 


THE BISHOP’S RIDDLE. 


137 

preparations we had made to receive them, they 
kept at a safe distance. 

At last, late one night, when the walls of our fort 
were not more than half-raised, came a breathless 
messenger bringing word that Andover was burnt 
to the ground. Our men had fought right gal- 
lantly, but the foe were over strong; they had been 
forced to yield. This was bad enough, but there was 
more to come. William of Ypres, with a chosen 
band of his hireling Flemings, was marching di- 
rectly to attack us. 


10 


CHAPTER XVL 


THE BURNING OF THE CONVENT. 

Little rest had we that night, but though we 
looked for the foe by early dawn it was nearer noon 
before they appeared. They laughed at our half- 
built walls, and called upon us to surrender without 
further ado, taunting us with the fate of those at 
Andover. But Haimo of Ivri had given his word 
to my lord the Earl, and meant to hold the post to 
the last. Then without further delay they made 
their first onset, assaulting us on every side. 

Little recks it to tell how time after time we beat 
them back, whilst arrows flew thick and fast, enter- 
ing by every crevice. At last the stones we had so 
hastily raised began to crumble about our ears. 
Many of our brave friends were slain, and if we did 
not wish to be buried beneath the ruins, it was high 
time for the rest of us to be gone. Yet were we 
still unconquered; Haimo had another stronghold 
to fall back upon. 

“To the nunnery!’’ he shouted aloud. “Ride 
you first, my Lord of Lowedale, with Alain of To- 
tinge and Dennis, my banner-bearer, and half a 
score spearmen. Stay for nothing, but cut your 
133 


THE BURNING OF THE CONVENT. 


139 


way through as best you can, then hold the con- 
vent gate till all have entered. You, my comrades, 
good knights and true, will lead the main- body; I 
will guard the rear. Keep together, and we will 
foil them yet. If any dastard turns to flee, cut him 
down ! ” 

The enemy had drawn off a little, expecting us 
to surrender, when suddenly we sallied out, cutting 
and hewing our way through them. They were so 
taken by surprise that our task at first was easy; 
then presently rallying, they gathered from all parts 
of the field, and broke through our ranks until we 
were cut quite in two. We of the foremost pressed 
on until between us and the convent we came upon 
a small body of spearmen standing side by side, 
holding their shields close together as a solid wall. 
There was no other way, we must yield or ride them 
down. ‘‘ Follow me! ” cried De Lowedale, a valor- 
ous knight and one of the wealthiest of the earl s 
party, and, dropping the reins on his horse's neck, 
he wielded his heavy sword in both hands, whilst 
I, riding close beside, held his shield before him. 
At his fierce onslaught the line wavered, then broke; 
another minute and we were in the midst of them. 
It was too close quarters to use spears; mace and 
battle-axe were plied instead. We were nearly 
through, the gates were close at hand, when a 
sword-thrust pierced De Lowedale’s horse, bringing 
the brave knight to the ground. 

“ I yield me," he cried, waving me off as I 
would have sprung to help him. ‘‘ Ride you on. 


140 the knight of the golden chain. 

Alain of Totinge, and hold the gate; remember the 
words of Sir Haimo.'' 

As the foe gathered round intent upon securing 
so valuable a prisoner unhurt, for great would be 
his ransom, we won our way through to the con- 
vent. It was then for the first time I discovered 
how our troops had been separated. Our little 
band alone had arrived, the others were still bat- 
tling on the plain, split up into groups, each man 
fighting fiercely for his own hand. But they took 
heart when they saw there was place of refuge, so 
that now and again a knight and his followers 
would succeed in forcing their way through and 
joining us. But many were killed, more were taken 
prisoners, and ever Haimo of Ivri held the rear. 
Happily his armour was so covered with dust and 
blood the enemy did not guess his rank; William 
of Ypres was seeking him further afield. Yet had 
he enough to contend against. He did all that a 
brave leader could, but now he was near defence- 
less. One of his squires had already yielded him- 
self prisoner, and whilst I gazed an arrow struck 
the other, piercing his eye even to the brain. He 
must have been dead ere he fell. 

And now was Haimo left alone, Though hard 
beset he would not yield, but still fought on valor- 
ously. The hot blood rushed to my cheeks with 
shame that I should be in safety behind the gates 
whilst so brave a knight was in dire peril outside. 
And not one of his friends gave any heed to him. 
Some were gathering their followers together with- 


THE BURNING OF THE CONVENT. 141 

in, others were engaged in noisy consultation, 
not one had a thought to spare for their leader. I 
turned to old Dennis, the banner-bearer, who, the 
blood flowing from a gash in his temple, was calmly 
binding up his hurt beside me. 

“ Canst keep the gate as my lord bade whilst I 
go to his help yonder? ” I cried breathlessly. “ You 
must not close it lest any of our men draw near, but 
for your life suffer no foe to enter.” 

Trust me, my young lord,” he answered 
gruffly, and catching up his ponderous battle-axe, 
for Dennis was a mighty man of great strength, he 
placed him.self before the opening. I called a cou- 
ple of spearmen to support me, and with Gundulf at 
my heels we rode forth. 

The space before the convent was comparatively 
clear; for when the foe saw we had attained shelter 
they left off pursuit, and turned their attention to 
those scattered about the field. Thus it chanced I 
was able to ride straight to my lord, and arrived but 
just in time. He had overthrown many, but the 
spearmen were now closing in around; worse still, 
two young knights, burning to distinguish them- 
selves, were bearing down upon him full tilt. I 
shouted a warning cry, and my lord of Ivri spurred 
his horse and pushed forward to meet the foremost; 
the attack of the other I diverted to myself. I had 
lost my spear long since, and he made at me feeling 
sure of victory. But just ere we met I caused my 
horse to swerve aside, his lance glanced harmlessly 
by, and, rising in the stirrups, I smote him with all 


142 the knight of the golden chain. 

my might. Such was the force of my blow that 
his helm was cloven asunder, he fell to the ground 
like a log, and his horse dashed riderless away. 

Sir Haimo, already worn and weary from his 
exertions, had not fared so well. He had disabled 
his adversary, but in turn had been overthrown, 
and, cumbered by his armour, could not rise. Gun- 
dulf reached him first, though I was not long after, 
and together we got him to horse again. Yet was 
he sore wounded; when we set him up he had no 
strength to stay upright, but leant forward swaying 
dowmwards until it was as much as Gundulf could 
do to hold him. Nevertheless he kept his wits, and 
knew well what was going on, whispering hoarsely 
now and again to direct us. I had but two to help 
me now, and we had all our work cut out to keep 
back the foe. We were hard set; but as yet there 
were no horsemen, only men on foot, and our stout 
mail withstood their blows. We kept them at bay 
until Gundulf had near reached the convent, then 
one of the Flemings, wise too late, sent his spear 
through my good horse. The poor brute stag- 
gered and fell, but I jumped from stirrup before he 
touched ground, and, whirling my sword above my 
head, shouted our battle-cry, “A Totinge! a To- 
tinge ! and attacked them fiercely. My rush made 
them recoil, and my two followers seconded me 
well; still, they were so many that we must have 
perished had not Gundulf, having hurried my lord 
inside the gate, sallied forth again with Dennis to 
our aid. It was high time. I lost both my brave 


THE BURNING OF THE CONVENT. 143 

men; one turned and fled, the other was struck 
down; but I caught at Gundulfs stirrup — there was 
no time to get to horse — Dennis clutched my collar, 
and, dragging me between them, they galloped into 
safety. My lord of Ivri had refused to quit the 
gate until we returned. They had laid him down 
just within, and, as I fell breathless to the ground 
beside him, he cried, ‘‘Well done, boy, well done! 
If I live to see the Earl again I will tell him how 
you have borne yourself this day.” 

We carried him into the convent, where the 
Abbess was so wrath at having her precincts in- 
vaded she would at first scarce allow the nuns to 
tend him. The knights in making preparations for 
defence had already exasperated her sorely. The 
good lady, however, soon relented, and before I 
left my commander, she herself was directing the 
binding up of his wounds, whilst another ancient 
nun prepared a strong cordial to revive him. I was 
somewhat hurt myself; but I would not trouble the 
good women, and was turning away to seek help 
from Gundulf, when a soft touch was laid upon my 
arm,, and there before me stood Ela. I was so as- 
tonished I could not speak, but stood still, gazing 
blankly upon her. 

“ You are still Brother Simple, then?” she said, 
with a saucy smile. “ Yet, when I marked you 
in the field just now I thought you had gained 
wit.” 

“ How came you here? ” I stammered. “ I 
thought you safe in London.” 


144 the knight of the golden chain. 

Good lack, do you think none can travel but 
you, Brother Simple?” Then her face falling, 
‘‘ Nay, I do ill to jest; there has been sore trouble, 
Alain, since we parted. Good Master Gilbert, the 
old man who was so kind to me, was taken with the 
sweating sickness, and died in three days. Then 
his son was master, and the young mistress was not 
fond of me. She has an ill tongue, she could not 
leave even Dame Joan in peace. So your good 
friend Walter the merchant made suit for me for a 
place in the household of Queen Maud. I fear, by 
the way, brother, you have chosen the wrong side; 
all men say the Countess of Anjou has no chance. 
The queen had already set out for Winchester, but 
part of her retinue were yet to follow, and she left 
orders that I should accompany them. Dame Joan 
came with me; she has a sister in this convent of 
Wherwell, and purposed to end her days here. We 
turned aside from the road but for a time, just to 
place the dame in safety, when lo! our passage was 
barred by the coming of your troops, and our fol- 
lowing stole away at night to seek assistance. It 
was my friends you have been fighting, good broth- 
er, and some hard knocks you have given them, I 
trow. But whilst I am prating, you are wounded, 
the blood is trickling down fast. Oh, why did you 
not tell me?” and with white face and shaking fin- 
gers she strove to undo my corselet. 

“ Nay, it is nothing,” I said, trying to reassure 
her, for indeed it was but a prick or two. But the 
maid would not be content until she had seen my 


THE BURNING OF THE CONVENT. 145 

hurts laid bare, and helped to bind them up with 
her own hands. 

By this time there arose a mighty commotion 
within the building. The nuns were running here 
and there in consternation and affright; the foe 
without swarming to attack us; our men mustering 
for the defence. 

“ Saw ye ever the like in peaceful convent? ” 
cried the lady Abbess, wringing her hands. “ I 
will forth to my lord Bishop and he shall solemnly 
ban ye with bell and candle.” Then again as we 
were striving to strengthen the walls, she sallied 
forth upon us in most unholy fury, reproaching us 
as cravens and niddering Saxons because we had 
not fought it out in the open field. And indeed 
the good lady’s anger was soon justified, when the 
Flemings took to casting blazing brands, and the 
convent began to burst into flames around us. Yet, 
strange to say, when the danger became extreme 
the courage of the lady Abbess returned to her. 
She ceased railing, and, ordering the great bell to 
be rung for prayers, walked at the head of her nuns 
into the chapel. Ela, supporting the trembling 
footsteps of Dame Joan, brought up the rear. The 
poor ladies were quaking with terror, but the Ab- 
bess had them well in hand, and presently above the 
din we heard their shrill voices chanting the ves- 
per psalms. 

We strove to stay the flames, but burning brands 
came thick and fast. The convent was doomed, 
naught could save it. We were beaten again and 


146 the knight of the golden chain. 

there was nothing for it but to yield us prisoners. 
So the gates were thrown open, and, as knights and 
men rushed out pell-mell together to surrender at 
discretion, the Flemings, flushed with triumph, 
poured in. Haimo of Ivri had been carried into 
the chapel when the assault commenced; and hither 
many of us fled at the last, some to seek safety 
on the steps of the sanctuary, others to stand by 
their lord. 

The psalms had sunk to silence now; the Ab- 
bess prostrate before the altar, was absorbed in 
prayer, the nuns striving to follow her example. It 
was upon this quiet scene that we burst with noisy 
uproar, crying: All is lost, the convent burns!’’ 
The poor sisters lost their wits entirely, and would 
no longer listen to the Abbess, who, raising the 
great cross, entreated them to follow her in orderly 
array. They rushed forth, filling the air with 
shrieks and lamentations, and close upon our heels 
came the foe, mailed soldiers trampling recklessly 
on the floor of that consecrated house of prayer. 
In one corner men were struck down and butchered 
even while they cried for mercy; in another, pris- 
oners were dragged forth and bound with thongs, 
to be held' to ransom. 

Yet did the confusion help a few of us. The 
church was so full of smoke that none noticed a 
little group behind the great screen where Sir Hai- 
mo had been set to rest. The burgher’s widow 
and Ela were kneeling close beside him ; throughout 
the uproar neither of them had stirred. Besides, 


THE BURNING OF THE CONVENT. 147 


there were Dennis, the banner-bearer, and three of 
my lord’s followers, with Gundulf and myself. The 
old woman held the maid fast with one shaking 
hand, otherwise she seemed unmoved. 

“ Ela, Ela, the flames are coming fast! ” I cried. 
“ Why did you not fly with the good sisters? ” The 
roof was now all ablaze, even the Elemings were 
falling back. 

“ Dame Joan forbade it,” she answered calmly. 
“ She says, ‘ Better perish here than to trust to 
those ravening wolves outside.’ And she is right. 
They may respect the nuns because of their holy 
habit — little mercy would they have on me, I 
know.” 

“ But they are your own friends,” I expostu- 
lated, though indeed there was much truth in what 
she said. 

Dame Joan shook her head vigorously. 

Eriends or foes,” she quavered, it is all the 
same when men are drunk with battle. I have 
seen a town given up to the sack, and I know. To 
your prayers, child, to your prayers; Heaven is 
more merciful than men.” 

Scarce had the words left her lips when a burn- 
ing mass came down almost upon us; the flame 
darted out and set Ela’s dress ablaze. 

“ Help, help — we burn! ” cried one of the men, 
making as though he would rush forth, only Dennis 
caught him such a buffet in the mouth that he fell 
back, the rest of his cry choked in blood. Eortu- 
nately, his words were unheard amid the commo- 


148 the knight of the golden chain. 


tion, for the lower end of the church was still the 
scene of combat. 

I flew to Ela’s side, and crushed out the fire 
with my hands before it harmed her, and whilst still 
tearing off the burnt fragments, I heard her whis- 
per softly: 

“ There is a little door behind the third pillar 
yonder, though I know not whither it leads.’^ 

I needed no second telling, but ran off without 
a word to see for myself; if it but gave on to the 
turmoil outside, I would say naught. The door 
was hardly to be seen at first, the smoke was so 
thick; had there not come a sudden burst of flame, 
I must have missed it. It was fast closed, but my 
knife soon pushed back the lock, and I passed into 
a narrow passage within the wall where as yet the 
fire had not reached. After a space came another 
door, bolted from within, which turned out to be — > 
holy St. Edmund be praised! — a little postern in the 
outer wall with nothing but a strip of meadow be- 
twixt us and the forest. We had only to make a 
rush for the woods, and we should be in safety. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


I PLIGHT MY TROTH. 

I WAS back again almost before they had missed 
me. “ There is a way out,” I cried, ‘‘ if only you 
follow quietly;” and I gave them hasty directions. 
I went first to lead the way, Dennis followed bear- 
ing his master upon his sturdy shoulders, then came 
Ela and Dame Joan under charge of Gundulf, the 
spearmen bringing up the rear. Our great danger 
was lest the foe should spy us as we crossed the 
meadow; for although it was now growing dusk, 
so long had the struggle lasted, yet the flames 
lighted up all around. Fortunately the little pos- 
tern was somewhat hid by a tangle of bush the fire 
had not reached, which came right up to the wall. 
From behind this I gazed out upon the meadow, 
and when presently the wind blew a dense cloud of 
smoke our way, I gave the word to rush across. 
Gundulf caught up Dame Joan in his arms, and Ela 
ran swiftly by his side. 

“Think not of me, see to my lord! ” she cried, 
as I drew near to aid her. “ Dennis is staggering 
like to fall, and the others make for the wood with- 
out helping him.” 


149 


150 the knight of the golden chain. 

It was as she said; the bannerman, owing to his 
wounds, had not his proper strength, and I ran to 
his side with a prayer on my lips that Ela might 
escape. For already had a cry been raised after us; 
the smoke had lifted, we were seen. 

But the wood was close now; a few more strides 
and its friendly shades concealed us, Gundulf and 
Ela, Heaven be thanked, close at my heels. The 
enemy cared not to pursue us among the trees; a 
few fugitives on foot were scarce worth the trouble. 
Had they known Sir Haimo was of our number we 
should scarce have got off so easily. 

Soon as we were all together again we hastened 
to put some greater distance between us and the 
foe, and, under guidance of one of the men, who 
said he knew the forest well, hurried on until it 
grew too dark to see. Then we halted in a grassy 
glade close beside a running brook; and here by 
light of a blazing brand we bound up my lord's 
wounds anew, and gave him water to quench his 
thirst. He had suffered somewhat in body from 
our rough handling; but he cared not for that, he 
was well satisfied not to be prisoner to William of 
Ypres. 

‘‘ If we reach Winchester in safety, Alain of 
Totinge,” he said loud enough for all to hear, ‘‘ I 
will pray my lord of Gloucester to dub you knight 
without further delay. I myself will present you 
with horse and arms. But for you I had been pris- 
oner even now; you have fairly won your spurs.” 

I flushed with pride as I strove to stammer forth 


I PLIGHT MY TROTH. 


15I 

my thanks. It would, indeed, be great honour to 
be knighted before full age; the pity was I had 
done so little to deserve it. 

We were minded to stay in the glade until the 
moon rose, and Gundulf presently relieved me of 
mv armour, for I was not a little weary. Then, 
after asking leave, he stole off to seek for Dickon. 

“ He will come if I call him, my lord,” he said. 

“ I turned him loose ere we entered the convent. 
But it would scarce be safe to whistle for him here 
— we know not how many may hear us.” 

When Gundulf had departed, I laid me down to 
rest hard by Ela and Dame Joan, who were sitting 
a little apart in a hollow, screened from the wind 
by a fringe of brambles. The dame was slumber- 
ing peacefully, her head pillowed upon a heap of 
leaves, and presently Ela came and sat by my side, 
and we discoursed together in whispers. This night 
first taught me I loved Ela; that if I could, I would 
win her for my wife. She had been so brave, so 
cool, when the other women were crying and shriek- 
ing; she had faced death so undauntedly; never a 
maid in Christendom had done the like. All my 
heart went out to her in joy and longing; I knew 
at last that no one in the world could be so much 
to me as Ela. 

I was shamefaced at first, and when I would 
have spoken she put me aside easily, guessing ever 
what I meant to say before it came. But I was not 
to be stayed for that, else had I been simple indeed. 
I seemed to fall in with her humour when she began 


152 the knight of the golden chain. 

to speak of the old days with Jocellus; then sud- 
denly I caught her hand in mine, saying: '‘If my 
lord of Ivri keeps his word, if indeed I gain my 
spurs, will you take me for your knight, Ela?'’ 

She hesitated for a moment, then answered in 
so gentle a tone it took off the sharp edge of her 
speech. 

“ Now there we have good Brother Simple again 
who would take for his lady a poor maid like to me. 
If you have won your spurs, you will still be land- 
less. You must keep the Earl’s favour, and in good 
time he will give you a wealthy heiress to wife. 

There was wisdom in her words as ever, but I 
cared for Ela more than for house or land. 

“ I want no heiress,” I answered quickly. 
“ When the wars are over, Aylmer will help me 
somewhat. What I need more I will gain for my- 
self. Give me your glove and I will fight for you 
in camp and tourney.” 

“ Not so, good brother, I have not even a name; 
you would be shamed before them all. Nay, we 
have but a jongleur’s word for it that I am Norman 
born. You can do better, dear Brother Simple — 
much better. I thank you for your courtesy, but 
indeed you must go your ways and forget me.” 

“ That can I never, though I live to be fourscore. 
And you are of noble blood, I swear, else had you 
not borne yourself so bravely. Yet it is true I am 
but simple. Small wonder you can not care for 
me. 

“ Nay, it is not that,” she began. Her voice fal- 


I PLIGHT MY TROTH. 


133 


tercd, and I could see, though it was dark, that her 
eyes were filled with tears near to falling. 

“ You do care for Brother Simple spite of all, 
sweetheart?'^ And she could not say me nay. 

Bending forward, I kissed her with all reverence 
upon the lips. 

“ Now are we troth-plight before Heaven, Ela, 
and when I am my own man I will seek you at the 
hands of your guardians with all due ceremony. I 
vow by St. Edmund, my patron saint, I will wed 
with none but you." 

“ It is early days to talk of wedding," she 
laughed as some of her old sauciness came back. 
“ Dame Joan may have a word to say in that mat- 
ter. A penniless maid, a landless knight — in truth, 
brother, I fear you have much to learn before 'tis 
time to wed." 

“ Maybe, but if you care for me, I fear nothing! 
You have wit enow to bend Dame Joan to your 
will. All will go well now I have your word." 

“ Hark to him, one wofild think " she began, 

when she held up her hand. “ Hist! Some one 
comes! " 

I listened, but there was no sound save the rising 
wind moaning through the trees. “ It is but the 
wind," I answered. “ Your sharp ears have played 
you false for once." 

Not so; it was more than the wind, though it 
might have been wolf or boar, or maybe even our 
old friends the outlaws. Think you those wild 
Flemings would come so far in pursuit of us?" 

II 


154 the knight of the golden chain. 

“ No; Gundulf would have warned us had they 
been at our heels. Besides, they could scarce find 
us in the darkness. Most like it is Gundulf himself, 
and we lie so close he can not hit upon us. I will 
let him know;'' and I hooted three times like an 
owl, a cry Gundulf had taught me. 

A few moments and it was answered, though the 
cry came from so far it showed Ela’s ears were 
sharp indeed. Then I hooted once more, and pres- 
ently there was a trampling in the bushes, and Gun- 
dulf, mounted upon Dickon, and followed by half a 
score of men on foot, came out upon us. I seized 
my sword, for in the dim light I could scarcely de- 
scry them, but Gundulf cried hastily: 

‘‘Fear not, my lord; these be our own men. 
They escaped to the woods instead of taking refuge 
in the convent; I have picked them up one by oi)e 
on the way." 

Together with this addition to our party Gun- 
dulf brought word that the enemy had not attempted 
to enter the forest; they were busy collecting their 
spoil, numbering their prisoners, and making prepa- 
rations to depart. This set us more at ease, and as 
soon as the moon rose I bade the men hack down 
great branches from the trees, of which we con- 
structed a rude litter to carry Sir Haimo. Ela and 
Dame Joan mounted together upon Dickon, and so 
we set forth. 

We made but slow progress, for the knight was 
heavy, and the bearers had oft to be changed. It 
was past midnight when we arrived at Winchester 


I PLIGHT MY TROTH. 


155 


Castle, a pitiful remnant of the band that had ridden 
out so gallantly; yet had we hearty welcome, for 
news of our ill-success had travelled fast. Word 
had been brought by one of the foremost fugitives 
that we had perished to a man, and the Earl had 
mourned much the loss of Sir Haimo. Defeat was 
almost forgotten in joy at our successful retreat, and 
my lord of Ivri kept his word and gave me all the 
credit of it. 

Thus it fell out that I came to great honour in 
that I was made a knight so young. Sir Haimo 
craved the boon; my mistress, the Empress, cared 
nothing one way or the other; and Earl Robert, 
nothing loth, declared my lord of Ivri should have 
his will. We were so closely beset that many of 
the usual ceremonies had to be abridged, save only 
the prescribed days of fasting; they were but too 
easily observed, our platters were ever growing 
emptier. All night I watched my armour in the 
chapel within the castle, and in the morning, after 
high mass, my sword was blessed, I took the sol- 
emn vows, received the accolade, and arose a knight. 
My lord of Ivri stood my sponsor according to his 
word, and presented me with a suit of armour and a 
horse. 

“ You have earned them well, Alain of To- 
tinge,’' he was gracious enough to say. “ Truly, 
it would have cost me much more for my ran- 
som.” 

After I was dubbed knight my comrades fastened 
on my golden spurs and buckled my corselet; but 


156 the knight of the golden chain. 

it was Ela’s fair hands — so I prayed — that girt my 
sword to my side, and I fastened her favour in my 
helm. She gave me her length of gold chain, the 
most precious thing she had, and because it was no 
common emblem I was known ever after as the 
Knight of the Golden Chain. There was much 
merry jesting, some vowing to win my token in 
tourney, some saying I had fixed upon my lady too 
soon; but I gave no heed, only to my lord did I 
tell the truth, that it was the little maid who had 
helped me to escape, and that I hoped one day to 
wed her. 

As it chanced Ela was only just in time to per- 
form the office, for the next day, when a few pris- 
oners were exchanged between the castle and the 
Bishop’s palace, she and the dame went with them. 
When I heard talk of the matter I begged earnestly 
she might be given some small place among the 
following of the Empress, fearing lest the fortunes 
of war might separate us altogether. But Earl Rob- 
ert would not hear of it. 

Nay, they would swear we had carried her 
off,” he said; “that we kept hereby force of arms. 
And it will be better for the damsel without a 
doubt,” he added in low tone, for he was speaking 
with me in the courtyard where were many 
who perchance might have sharp ears. Our state 
is growing more parlous every day; if matters 
do not mend the trenchers will soon be empty. 
Would to Heaven the Empress were safe at Ox- 
ford! ” 


I PLIGHT MY TROTH. 


157 


And truly, since we lost the ford of Wherwell 
we had been sore straitened for lack of provision. 
The town was a heap of ashes, the citizens dying 
of famine and want, and we ourselves threatened 
with a like calamity. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


RANULF THE WOLF. 

Soon after Ela left the castle — and we parted so 
hastily there was scarce time for a word of farewell 
— news was brought in secretly of a small herd of 
cattle within a few miles of the city, if we could send 
men to fetch them. This was good news indeed, 
but as it pleased not the elder knights to become 
drivers of beasts, the Earl entrusted this duty to me. 
It was my first independent command, and I set 
forth with much pride at the head of a score of men, 
Gundulf riding as usual at my heels. For although 
I wore the spurs I had no esquires, no following of 
my own; I was as yet but a landless knight, a poor 
servant in the Lady’s household. But Gundulf an- 
swered all my needs; he buckled on my armour 
and carried my shield; he was page, and esquire, 
and faithful follower all in one. 

It was late in the afternoon when we started, the 
design being to drive the cattle in after dusk, when 
we might escape the flying bands of the enemy’s 
horsemen. For a time all went well. The beasts 
were hidden in a deep hollow, with brambles grow- 
ing so thick about the sides no one could spy them. 

158 


RANULF THE WOLF. 


159 


We had some ado to get them out, but it was done 
at last; then, keeping to the low ground where the 
trees might hide us, we pricked them on fast as 
we could to Winchester. 

The castle walls were almost in sight when I 
caught the clank of arms, the galloping of horsemen 
coming fast in pursuit. A little before us was a 
deep marsh we needs must cross, a low causeway 
running through it for passage of man and beast. 
By straining every nerve we contrived to get the 
cattle upon this path, and leaving three men only 
to drive them on, I drew the rest together, and 
prepared to hold the passage. It was in our 
favour that our pursuers could not ride round, 
they would have floundered in the bog; there was 
no possible road but the causeway we were guard- 
ing. 

They came up without a pause, their leader at 
their head — a burly figure cased in mail — and as he 
charged down upon us I spurred forward to meet 
him. The encounter was sharp and short. My 
lance was couched true, I made for his helm and 
struck it so fairly, that had not the fastenings burst 
he must have been unhorsed; but he bore me down 
horse and all, hurling me to earth with such force 
that I lay bruised and bleeding, unable to stir hand 
or foot. In the very act of falling, as his helm 
rolled down, I recognised him. It was my old ene- 
my Ranulf Fitz-Dru, Ranulf the Wolf, he who had 
so cruelly entreated me. He had forgotten me or 
he would not have hesitated, for, springing to the 


l6o the knight of the golden chain. 

ground, he raised his sword crying: “ Yield thee, 
Sir Knight, or I strike! ” 

I had no time to answer even could I have found 
words; for, as he bent over me bareheaded, Gun- 
dulf pushed up between us shouting madly, “ The 
Wolf! the Wolf!” Then he let fall his reins, and, 
standing in his stirrups, raised his battle-axe in both 
hands and severed Ranulfs head at a blow. It was 
all over in a moment. The blood spurted up like a 
fountain, the head rolled to one side, the unwieldy 
form, after swaying for a moment, fell upon me until 
I was near suffocated. But Gundulf gave no heed, 
he was beside himself. He spurred madly on, whirl- 
ing aloft the blood-stained axe and crying to our 
men to follow. And they held not back, his fury 
was contagious; had not the headless body served 
as a shield, sure am I they would have ridden 
over me. 

The struggle, if so it might be called, did not last 
long. The enemy outnumbered us, but the sudden 
death of their lord had startled them not a little, and 
the sight of Gundulf charging down upon them, cov- 
ered with Ranulf’s blood from head to foot, com- 
pleted their discomfiture. 

’Tis no man, ffis the foul fiend himself!” 
shouted one aloud. It is a judgment upon our 
lord for his deed of yesterday.” 

What that deed was we never knew, for at once 
with one consent they turned and fled, Gundulf and 
his fellows pursuing them. 

By the time they returned I had recovered from 


RANULF THE WOLF. l6l 

the first shock of my fall, and had withdrawn myself 
from beneath the Wolf. But I was stiff and sore, 
I could stand upright with difficulty, and had much 
pain in drawing breath. Gundulf, who by the time 
he came back had recovered his wits, was full of 
grief for having so neglected me. 

‘‘ By St. Dunstan, when I saw the Wolf I forgot 
all, my lord,” he cried. “ If I could I would have 
slain them one and all. Yet we slew but two or 
three of the hindmost; they were too fleet for us.” 

‘‘ In truth it was a mighty blow, Gundulf. Never 
have I seen the like.” 

“ Yet it was far too easy a death,” he returned 
gloomily, spurning the headless corpse with his foot 
as he spoke. “ The Wolf was not wont to give 
his prisoners so quick an end.” Then with joy: 

But thanks be to good St. Dunstan, he will never 
claim me as his thrall now; the holy saint and my 
good axe have rid me of that.” 

When they unarmed me to discover my hurts, it 
was found my side was badly bruised, which ac- 
counted for the difficulty I felt in breathing. Other- 
wise I had sustained little harm; no. bones were 
broken, and the spear had not pierced my mail. My 
horse, which had been wandering near, was speedily 
caught, and when they lifted me to saddle, though 
riding was none too easy, I could hold on. Before 
we quitted the spot I stripped the Wolf of all he 
had about him, which I gave to Gundulf for his own 
proper spoil; and after we had loaded the armour 
upon the dead man’s horse, we set off to follow the 


i 62 the knight of the golden chain. 

cattle. The body itself we left where it was, know- 
ing well that when his friends had recovered from 
their fright they would come back to seek it. 

To this mean end came Ranulf Fitz-Dru, one of 
the proudest of Stephen’s barons. For a mean end 
it was truly, to be slain ingloriously by one of his 
own villeins. But I felt no pity for him, no, not I; 
he had used me too evilly. 

Meeting no further adventures on the way, we 
overtook the beasts in due course. All were safe, 
the men had not lost one. We brought them in 
triumph to the castle, and thus furnished meat for 
that night, and the next day, and a day or so after; 
then came pinching times again, and hunger slowly 
did its work among us. There was much want, and 
when men could bear it no longer they stole forth 
and fled. The Empress endured every hardship 
without a murmur, for, in spite of her arrogance, 
she was truly a brave lady. She had a heart of iron 
in times of adversity, and in the frame of a woman 
she carried the nature of a man. If I never loved 
my mistress, at least I learned to have great respect 
for her. 

At length there came a time when we could hold 
on no longer — we must either yield as prisoners or 
fight our way out. There was little doubt, with the 
Empress and Earl Robert at our head, which it was 
to be. But my lord the Earl bore in mind that last 
flight from London when all the Lady’s followers 
forsook her on the way. He took his precautions 
this time, and the day before we were to leave, after 


RANULF THE WOLF. 


163 


mass in the chapel, he assembled a chosen band of 
knights, who took a solemn oath not to desert their 
liege lady, but to die rather than let her be taken. 
All held up their hands and swore, though more 
than one, I fancied, seemed not a little unwilling. 
But unless they would be perjured there was no 
escape, and I laughed in my sleeve to see them 
caught so finely. Some, I doubt not, had meant to 
turn and make their peace with the Bishop. 

After that little device of my lord’s, we made 
ready in haste, on the morning of the Feast of the 
Holy Rood — when there should have been peace 
between contending armies, the truce of God as or- 
dered by Holy Church— the gates were thrown 
open, and we marched out in a body. The Earl 
had decided to make for Devizes, and we rode forth 
at earliest dawn, hoping to be some miles on our 
way before our flight was discovered. The Empress 
was among the foremost, under charge of her uncle, 
the King of Scots, and Brian Fitz-Count, Lord of 
Wallingford, a staunch and trusty friend; whilst 
Earl Robert with the sworn knights guarded the 
rear. 

Our hope of stealing forth unperceived came to 
naught; the Bishop’s men were on the watch, and 
soon poured upon us from all sides in countless 
numbers. In no long time our ranks were broken; 
our men scattered in flight, throwing down their 
arms as they ran. The Earl himself and the little 
band around him alone remained to withstand the 
enemy. My post was with the Empress, though 


164 the knight of the golden chain. 

had I been free to follow my own will I had never 
left my lord. We stayed for nothing, but galloped 
hard as we could drive the horses along, though 
more than once the foe nearly laid hands upon us. 
Thanks be to Heaven, we outrode them at last, 
though we drew not rein until we reached Lutger- 
shall; the Empress sad and sorrowful at the loss of 
her brave army. 

Here we halted for a while to wait for Earl Rob- 
ert, if perchance he might be able to overtake us. 
Soon, however, came a flying messenger bearing the 
most disastrous tidings — my lord was prisoner in 
the hands of the enemy. He had halted his little 
party on the banks of the Test, hard by Wherwell, 
where we had fought so hotly, and here he held the 
passage of the river against the enemy until the Em- 
press should have time to escape. He held the ford, 
but he stayed too long for his own safety. William 
of Ypres and his Elemings hemmed him in, falling 
upon him in such overwhelming numbers that he 
was taken prisoner with all his followers. This was 
the worst blow the Lady Matilda had had yet, the 
worst, in truth, that could be, save my lord had 
been slain. We got to horse again sorrowfully in- 
deed, and for the first few miles rode in sad silence, 
wondering what would be the end. At length one 
spake out what was in the mind of all. Now will 
they demand that Stephen of Blois be set free, and 
offer to render us my lord in exchange for him.’' 

We turned toward the Empress with one accord, 
and her brow was black as thunder. 


RANULF THE WOLF. 


165 


‘‘ By my Lady St. Mary, it shall not be so! she 
exclaimed fiercely, and as she spoke she smote her 
clenched fist upon the saddle with such force I 
looked to see the blood come. “ Not even for my 
good brother will I give up that arch traitor.’' And 
her displeasure endured for long; she spoke to us 
no word more, good or bad, until near fainting with 
fatigue we lifted her from her horse at Devizes. 

And she would have held fast to her word spite 
of them all, if it had been in her power, such was her 
bitterness against Stephen. 

We would fain have rested for a while at De- 
vizes, for the Lady was well nigh spent. We had 
not halted, save for that short space at Lutgershall, 
since we left Winchester, and many had fallen by 
the way unable to keep up with us. But we dared 
not stop even now; the enemy were still in hot 
pursuit, and it was reported, that William of Ypres 
had sworn a vow not to draw rein until he had cap- 
tured the Empress. 

‘‘ Why tarry we here, then? ” cried Matilda, di- 
rectly the rumour reached her ears, her stout spirit 
still unbent. “ If my weak body play me false so 
that I can ride no longer, not even though I sit man 
fashion ” — for in such wise had she come from Lut- 
gershall — “ you can tie me on, I trow, unless you 
be all traitors. Bring up the horses, I linger not 
here another minute.” 

We hastened to and fro, seizing fresh beasts 
wherever we could lay hands on them, when as luck 
would have it, we came full upon a funeral train re- 


i66 the knight of the golden chain. 

turning from a burial, the long bier still strapped to 
the horse's back. 

“ By my faith, if our liege lady must be carried 
this will do right well for us," cried Brian Fitz- 
Count, and without further ado he caught the bridle 
and hurried to the Empress. 

It was a gruesome plan, but our need was press- 
ing, and the Lady cared for naught so she might 
continue her journey. We placed her, already near- 
ly half-dead, upon the bier, and, heaping the grave- 
clothes about her form, bound her on with cords as 
a corpse. 

“ If we meet the foe now," quoth Brian with a 
grim laugh, “ we have but to look sad and solemn, 
and none, I dare swear, will interfere with us." 

And in that dismal plight did the Empress travel 
even as far as Gloucester; for we tarried not until 
safe within the walls of that strong city, where we 
could bid defiance to all who came against us. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


WE LOSE OXFORD. 

Soon as the Empress was somewhat recovered 
from the hardships of her late flight, she sent mes- 
sengers to Stephen’s wife at. Winchester to treat for 
Earl Robert’s release, offering much money and 
many noble prisoners in exchange for him. But the 
Queen would not listen; she would have none other 
than her husband, whom the Empress was just as 
firm to keep. 

Meantime word was brought us that my lord the 
Earl, though most courteously entreated by Queen 
Maud, steadfastly refused to counsel his sister to 
exchange him for Stephen. “ Twenty earls,” he 
said, “ would not be of sufficient importance to ran- 
som a king; how then could he so far forget the 
interest of the Empress, his sister, as to exchange 
him but for one? ” Thus steadfastly did the great 
Earl uphold what he held to be the righteous cause 
of his sister. 

When Queen Maud found she could prevail 
nothing, she delivered my lord to the custody of 
William of Ypres, and he was confined in the castle 
of Rochester ; yet did she never suffer a bond of any 

167 


I68 the knight of the golden chain. 

kind to be put upon him, nor did she treat him 
in the least with dishonour. How it would have 
ended I know not, but, fortunately for those who 
loved my lord, there was another woman concerned 
in the matter, his wife, the Countess of Gloucester, 
who had the care of Stephen in Bristol Castle. 
When the Queen found the Empress so obdurate, 
she turned to the Countess instead, and they made 
an agreement whereby Queen Maud and her son 
surrendered themselves as hostages to the Countess 
until Stephen and Earl Robert should change places. 
The Empress was sore angered; but she had no 
power to stay anything, and the Countess of 
Gloucester was resolved that her lord should be re- 
leased. 

It was on the feast of All Saints, the first day of 
the month of November, that Stephen rode forth 
from Bristol a free man, and a few days later Rob- 
ert, the Earl, was restored to us. My lord did not 
come back alone; he was accompanied by a goodly 
train of knights and barons, who had been prisoners 
and were now exchanged, and with them came a few 
of Stephen's following to visit their friends in the 
opposite camp. Among these latter, to my great 
joy, was my brother Aylmer. It was the first time 
I had seen him since we parted at St. Edmund’s 
Convent, and you may imagine how warm were our 
greetings, how much we had to say to each other. 
He was eager to hear how I had sped, rejoicing to 
know that I already wore my spurs, and I told him 
all that had chanced to me, including my troth-plight 


WE LOSE OXFORD. 


169 


with Ela. He, on his side, had little to relate. He 
had remained quietly at Wodebrig until — when the 
Empress was chased from London Earl Alberic 
finally cast in his lot with Stephen’s party. There- 
upon Aylmer had followed his lord to the field, 
though it was only of late he had come to Win- 
chester. I had passed somewhat lightly over my 
imprisonment — it was over and done with, what 
mattered it now? — yet was Aylmer sore distressed. 

“ And I knew naught,” he cried angrily. “ The 
Prior assured me ever you were well, and that he 
had secured you a place about Henry of Blois. 
When we came to Winchester, I made sure I should 
find you in the Bishop’s household. But I could 
learn naught of you at all, until this same Ela sought 
me out, and told me of your deeds at Wherwell. 
She spoke no word, however, of what had passed 
between you; she said not even that you were 
friends. And truly, Alain, in this I think you are 
wrong, and that Earl Alberic will have none of it. 
You are his ward. You can not plight your troth 
save he bids you.” 

I laughed. Aylmer seemed to think I was still 
the boy from whom he had parted, whereas I knew 
myself to be a man. I left my boyhood behind me 
for ever when I fell into the hands of Panulf the 
Wolf. 

“It is you who forget,” I replied; “Alberic 
cast me off for good and all when he bade me 
come no more to Wodebrig. He has no author- 
ity over me now. I serve the Lady of England 


170 the knight of the golden chain. 

and my lord the Earl. It is to them I have sworn 
fealty.’' 

“ Then if you are so high in their favour, and it 
must be so or you would scarce have been dubbed 
knight, surely they will bestow upon you some 
wealthy ward with broad lands for her dowry. 
Half of all I have is yours, but for you I had been 
outcast and landless; yet is Totinge but a small fief, 
as you know, and it behooves both of us to wed 
wisely. I wot our uncle of St. Edmund’s would say 
the same.” 

“ Maybe he would, so wed you wisely, good 
brother,” I returned lightly; “my choice is made 
past undoing.” 

“ Yet think once more,” he persisted, this wise 
brother of mine, and yet he meant me well. “ The 
maid is no fit mate for one of the house of Totinge. 
She is fair to look upon maybe, I say nothing of 
that; but she has led a strange life, her lineage is 
unknown. You can not be sure even that her birth 
is noble.” 

“ That I will swear it is. But whatever she may 
be. Heaven helping me, I mean to wed no maid but 
her, and thereto have I plighted my word. And 
you will do me no service, Aylmer, if you whisper 
aught of what you have been saying to Ela. She 
knows it all better than you can tell her, and I want 
not to go over the old ground again. Rather, if 
you think you owe me aught, pay me for it by 
holding your peace to Alberic and the Prior, and 
pleading my cause with the damsel. Watch over 


WE LOSE OXFORD. 171 

her all you may; guard her for me like a loving 
brother.’’ 

He shook his head gloomily, as if he liked not 
my words, then suddenly put his hand in mine. 
“ My hand upon it, Alain, if you will not be guided. 
I owe you that much at least, though still I think 
you wrong. But a wilful man must have his way. 
I will hold the maid as my sister.” 

And well I knew that Aylmer would keep his 
word. Ela could not have a more loyal protector. 
My brother could make no long stay with us at 
Gloucester. He had come but on the chance of 
seeing me, and when he departed Gundulf rode in 
his train as far as Winchester. My faithful follower 
had craved leave for a time to look once again upon 
his dame and child; now that Fitz-Dru was dead 
he no longer feared to show himself. 

‘‘ And I have good store to take them,” he cried 
gleefully, showing a bag of silver he had received 
for the Wolf’s horse and armour. Blithe will they 
be to think I have found so good a lord. If all 
go well I can be back in a month at most; there 
will scarce be blows again ere then.” 

Soon after Aylmer left us the war recommenced, 
though at first there was little done. We had mar- 
velled rather that Stephen left us alone for so long, 
having expected him to fall upon us, full of fury 
for his long imprisonment; but presently we heard 
he was lying ill at Northampton, grievously sick 
and like to die. Yet were our prospects growing 
desperate. The barons were falling from us one by 


172 the knight of the golden chain, 

one, so that it was agreed to send to Count Geoffrey, 
of Anjou, entreating him to come to the defence of 
his wife’s inheritance. Messengers were sent forth- 
with, but the Count would treat with none but Earl 
Robert in person, and the Empress so worked upon 
her good brother, that at last he consented to cross 
the seas himself, and pray her husband to come 
and aid us. But first he made all provision for the 
safety of his sister, conducting her to the impreg- 
nable castle of Oxford, there to abide until his re- 
turn. 

And during all this time Gundulf had not come 
back to me, neither could I gain any tidings of him. 
There was little doubt but that he had fallen on the 
way. It grieved me sorely thus to lose my faithful 
follower; long I lamented him, and found none to 
take his place. 

Now as it fell out, the Count of Anjou had no 
mind to aid us at all. He still delayed to keep his 
word, finding ever fair excuse when my lord pressed 
him. It was many long months before the Earl was 
able to return, and meantime events were going bad- 
ly with us in England. Stephen, recovering from 
his sickness, came down upon us like a raging lion, 
eager to take advantage of the Earl’s absence. One 
by one he gained all our posts, until only Oxford 
was left to us. But in that good city we had no 
fear of him; for Oxford is a place strongly fortified, 
and almost inaccessible from the deep waters which 
flow around it. 

We had no apprehension, as I said, of the city 


WE LOSE OXFORD. 


173 


being taken, but Stephen, resolving to dare all while 
still fortune favoured him, at once came up against 
us, taking his ground on the opposite side of the 
river. Then did the whole town pour forth on foot 
to laugh and jeer at him, knights and men-at-arms 
and citizens, shouting abuse across the water, whilst 
the archers let fly a cloud of arrows. But suddenly 
there ensued a marvellous change. There was an 
ancient ford thereabouts, fallen out of use, it was so 
deep and difficult. Hearing of this, Stephen boldly 
plunged in at the head of his troops, and swimming, 
rather than wading, made his way across, charging 
us with such impetuosity that we fell back in shame- 
ful rout, even to the walls. Through the gates we 
passed, friend and foe together, and though we 
turned and fought hard in the streets, in less space 
than I can tell it the enemy were in possession. 
The wooden houses were set ablaze, and in our 
extremity we sought shelter with the Kmpress in 
the citadel. 

In Oxford streets, in the very thickest of this 
turmoil, I came near to slaying my brother. For 
the moment I was alone; there had come a sudden 
rush, separating me from my friends, and I was 
bestirring myself vigorously to rejoin them. I had 
near cut my way through when I came face to face 
with one so begrimed with blood and dust that in 
the heat of the battle I did not recognise him. I 
beat him to his knee, my arm was raised in the very 
act to strike home, when, Heaven be praised, he 
caught sight of the chain upon my helm, and 


174 knight of the golden chain. 

shouted aloud: “Strike not, Alain; it is I, Aylmer, 
your brother/' 

I was so startled, my arm dropped helpless to my 
side, my sword fell to the ground with a clang. I 
stood shaking and trembling, the veriest coward, 
until the foe hemmed me in and I could not help 
myself. It was Aylmer’s quickness that saved me 
then. Pushing me before him, as if I were his 
prisoner, he cleared a way through the throng until 
we reached a clear space, where men were so busy 
firing the houses, they gave no heed to us. 

“ Take it not so much to heart, Alain," he said 
with a laugh, seeing that even yet I had scarce re- 
covered myself. “ Since we are both in the field, 
it is but the fortune of war, we were bound to meet 
some time. Ela charged me long ago to look out 
for her knight of the chain." 

And I, Heaven forgive me!" I stammered. 
“ I never once gave it a thought. Well has she 
named me Brother Simple. Had I harmed you, I 
vow by St. Edmund I would have turned monk and 
prayed for your soul night and day." 

“ Then thank the good saint that I cried out in 
time, for sure am I you would have grown very tired 
of it. I will have a device on my shield ere we meet 
again — two hands clasped fast, yours and mine; then 
can you pass me by. Now quick, get you gone, the 
varlets yonder are turning this way. Take my 
sword," and he pressed it into my hand. “ Pass 
there where the smoke is thickest. If any seek to 
stay you, make at them as you did at me just now. 


WE LOSE OXFORD. 


175 


and I’ll warrant you have little trouble.” And he 
hurried me off with such haste I had not time for 
another word. 

I soon fell in with some of my own friends, and 
we fought our way to the castle, where alone was 
safety. Here we found men bewailing the loss of 
the strong town, saying that had Robert the Earl 
been with us, it could not have come to pass. 

And now did Stephen proceed closely to invest 
us, taking up his quarters in the palace of Beaumont 
just without the north gate. He pressed the siege 
with the utmost vigour, so that in no long time we 
were enduring the hardships of Winchester over 
again. He sought at first to take us by assault, 
erecting engines of wonderful power, and storming 
the ramparts under cover of flights of arrows, but all 
was in vain; our garrison resisted so stoutly, he was 
fain to cease his attacks and assail us by the surer 
means of famine. Vigilant guards had orders to 
keep strict watch day and night; he held us fast 
from the feast of St. Michael even unto Christmas, 
and no man was able to help us. 

We were in these dire straits when word was 
brought that the Earl of Gloucester had landed at 
Wareham, accompanied by young Henry, Matilda’s 
son. Yet was the force he brought so small, that he 
had no power to aid us ; he had to wait until the 
partisans of the Empress could gather to his assist- 
ance. Unhappily, all this took time, and we in the 
castle were stricken with famine almost beyond en- 
durance. 


CHAPTER XX. 

GUNDULF RETURNS. 

Now that the assaults had ceased, we had little 
to do in the castle, save watch from the walls for 
aid that came not. One morning when I was loi- 
tering idly on the battlements, I heard some one 
softly call my name. I looked up and down, before 
me and behind; I could not guess whence the voice 
came. I thought it must have been fancy. Then, 
again, I heard it clearer, and behold— swimming 
beneath me in the river that washed the walls, his 
head peeping forth from amongst the rushes— there 
was Gundulf. I could scarce believe my eyes, I had 
made so sure he was dead. 

“ Hist, my lord! ” he cried, peering up cautious- 
ly. “ I have been waiting for this hour these weeks 
past. Did you think I had forsaken you? ” 

“ Not for a minute, good Gundulf; we have been 
comrades too long for you to forget me. Heaven 
be thanked you are still alive; I have missed you 
sorely. In truth I believed you dead. Well I knew 
that only evil of some sort would keep you from 


me. 


And evil there was, else had I been with you 
176 


GUNDULF RETURNS. 


177 


long ago. But I dare not stay to tell of it now ; I 
am one of the king’s guard set to watch your walls. 
You are too careless, my lord. I could have sent 
an arrow through you easily. I have left my post 
to discover myself to you, and if my captain knows 
of it I am undone. If you will come to this same 
place in the first hours of the night it will be my 
watch again, and in the dark they will not see us. 

The brave fellow dived suddenly out of sight, 
swimming a few strokes under water, as he had a 
knack of doing, and, reappearing presently quite 
close to land, reached his post unseen. 

I told no one aught of what had chanced. I 
would hear what Gundulf had to say first, and I 
hastened to the walls at the appointed time, to find 
my faithful follower awaiting me. As soon as my 
eyes could pierce the darkness, I saw him standing 
at the foot of the wall. 

“ Glad am I, my lord, to get speech with you,” 
he said softly, after our first greetings were over; 
“ I began to fear you had gone over-seas with the 
Earl. I was not of those who took the city so eas- 
ily, or perchance I had met you sooner. I have not 
been in the camp a month. And is all well with 
you, my lord? You have not come to any hurt? 

“ Nothing brit a little blood-letting when your 
new friends took us so by surprise. Had the Earl 
been here their task had not been so easy. But to 
your tale, man, lest we be interrupted. Tell me how 
it chanced to you from the beginning. 

“ Ay, that will I gladly, my lord; then you shall 


178 the knight of the golden chain. 


tell me what to do. I left you, as you know, to seek 
out my dame and child, and journeyed to the place 
where I had left them without mishap. No man 
guessed I carried treasure, or it might have been 
different. But my dame was gone. Ranulf the 
Wolf had found her out and sought to lay hands 
upon her — the foul fiend give him the reward of 
his deeds — and she had fled by night to the wilds. 
I followed after and saw a strange sight enow. 
Whilst we are fighting here, pulling down, and 
burning, and destroying, new monks from over-sea 
are raising fair buildings among the swamps, and 
the helpless and the homeless and the outlaw all 
alike take refuge with them. They have been good 
to my dame, good to her and to the child, and it 
pleased me much I was able to repay the cost. It 
did my heart good, my lord, to set eyes upon them 
once again, and the boy has grown such a sturdy 
rogue, already has his mother to take stick to him. 
I abode with them a few happy days; then me- 
thought it was time to be on the way. All went 
well as before for the first part of the journey, and 
Dickon got over the ground merrily. Then, as ill 
luck would have it, I fell into the hands of a troop 
belonging to William of Ypres. I claimed to be 
the thrall of Ranulf Fitz-Dru — that dead Wolf might 
serve me here I thought — but they were short of 
men, and vowed to string me up on the nearest tree 
unless I joined them. It was a choice I liked not, 
but if I were hung it was certain I could serve you 
no more, so I consented to them for a time. I 


GUNDULF RETURNS. 


1/9 


joined them with such good heart that they soon 
became my friends; not one of them has a doubt of 
me to this day. Only they kept poor Dickon — I 
bear them a lasting grudge for that — never again 
have I set eyes on the beast. Since then I have 
fought oft, and once been sore wounded; we have 
marched, and burned, and plundered, but ever have 
I kept my eyes and ears open for news of you. It 
is only of late I have been put on guard round the 
castle here, and no one, I vow, has watched the 
walls more closely. And now, my lord, if you cast 
me a rope, I can be with you, unless, perchance, I 
can do you better service outside. Men say that you 
are in straits for lack of food, that hunger will soon 
make the Empress surrender. But in sooth she will 
hold out till you are all dead. Can I bring you 
aught? With a fat capon or two at my belt I could 
swim across easily. Provisions are plentiful with 
us.'’ 

So are trees plentiful, and hempen ropes, and 
strips of hide, my good Gundulf, if an arrow do not 
speed you the sooner," I replied. “ If you risk your 
life for me it shall be for something better than a fat 
capon. Couldst aid the Empress to escape now? 
That \vere indeed a feat worth doing." 

He shook his head. 

If she were our side of the river I would not 
say but I could guide her through the camp; but 
how to win across is another thing. An she had 
wings like a bird, or feet like a duck, it might be 
done; but I see no other way. It is easy for me 


I So the knight of the golden chain. 


to cross ; I make no sound, and at least sign of dan- 
ger I dive out of sight. Be the night never so dark, 
no boat could cross unseen.’' 

I could not gainsay him, and in truth I had ex- 
pected nothing. I had scarce spoken of the matter 
in earnest. 

We talked yet a little longer, and then Gundulf 
departed, counselled by me to abide for a time 
where he was. He could do us little service with- 
in the walls, besides being another to feed; whilst 
from without he might be able to give us news 
of the enemy’s doings. We agreed upon a sign 
—a rag hanging from a bush — when I was to look 
out for him. I also warned him to keep out of 
sight of Aylmer — who, luckily, was on the further 
side of the camp — lest my brother should suspect 
aught. 

Gundulf swam the moat thrice again, though 
it was more because he craved speech with me 
than for aught he had to tell. The last time the 
cold caught his limbs, and he dared not stay, lest 
he should be too numbed to get back. 

“ It is still the cursed Wolf; his works live after 
him,” he cried bitterly. “ I have swum in drifting 
ice ere now and scarce felt it; his tortures have 
made a woman of me.” 

I waited in fear and trembling for some sign 
he had got back safely — it was so dark a night 
I could not watch his movements — and glad in- 
deed I was to hear an arrow presently strike the 
wall below me. I knew then that all was well. 


GUNDULF RETURNS. l8l 

The winter set in unusually early that year; 
although it was but the beginning of November 
the snow was knee deep, the river coated with 
, thin ice. We were cold without and within, we 
had little fuel and less food, the rations grew scan- 
tier daily. And still Earl Robert came not, and 
Stephen drew his men ever closer and closer. The 
garrison began to mutter among themselves, talk- 
ing openly of surrender, though it was long be- 
fore any dared breathe the word before the Em- 
press. She bore, as ever, a brave front, and made 
light of every hardship, vowing to hold out until 
my lord of Gloucester came to relieve us. 

But at last, all too soon, there came a day 
when hunger prevailed, and men would hold their 
peace no longer. There seemed nothing for it 
but that Matilda must yield herself prisoner. It 
was her turn to fall into the hands of the man 
she had so harshly entreated. 

The cold grew more biting, piercing to the 
very marrow of our bones, until at last the river 
froze so hard that one night Gundulf walked 
across. He had put up the signal ere sundown, so 
that I was on the look out, and as I watched him 
stealing over, I saw the way opened out before 
us. Heaven had been kinder than we thought. 
Whilst we had been railing at the cold like puling 
women, because we were so empty, the blessed 
saints had been interceding for us; their prayers 
were about to be answered. I was so eager to 
open the matter I could not stay for Gundulf to 


l82 the knight of the golden chain. 

tell his news, but broke out directly he was safe 
within hearing: 

“ Gundulf, remember your word, that you could 
guide the Empress through the camp? Needs no 
wings now, nor duck’s feet either; the holy saints 
have made a passage for us.” 

He answered not at first; I had taken him so 
on the sudden he needed time to collect his 
thoughts. Then he said in thoughtful fashion, 
and without much heart, the matter was so weighty 
he had scarce a mind for it. 

“ It might perhaps be done, my lord, if only 
she get over unseen. I can have nothing to do 
with that. If all went well — and I will not an- 
swer for it — I might take her through the sen- 
tries as far as Abingdon. Once there all would 
be safe; she could get to horse and fly whither 
she would. Only pray you take good heed, I will 
in no wise warrant that she can pass in safety; 
for truly will she incur great danger. What man 
can do, I will.” 

'' You can say no more than that, Gundulf, 
but I see not why we should fail.” 

“ If the lady care to risk it,” Gundulf contin- 
ued, seeing well by my manner that I was bent 
upon it, “ it would be best she lost no time. The 
king is preparing another assault, and it is said 
you are so weakened by hunger that this time he 
will gain the castle. My lord of Gloucester is as- 
sembling his troops in all haste, but he will come 
too late: it will all be over by theh.” 


GUNDULF RETURNS. 


183 


Can you wait while I go and speak to my 
mistress? I cried eagerly. “ Right sure am I she 
will venture.” 

I can stay for a while, but be not long, my 
lord. If the moon rise before I cross I am lost.” 

I shall have shown you little what kind of 
woman was the Empress if you can not guess how 
she received my news. Casting a large cloak about 
her, that she might not be recognised, she went 
at once to the walls, accompanied by one Er- 
menald, an old knight in whom she put all confi- 
dence. She spoke with Gundulf herself, question- 
ing him shrewdly. Then, turning to me: 

“ And you, Alain of Totinge, you vouch that 
this be true man?” she asked. 

‘‘ I will answer for his good faith as for my 
own,” I returned. 

If you answer for him — and Robert, my 
brother, has already answered for you — I will e’en 
risk it. Not a word, good Ermenald,” as that cau- 
tious knight was about to interfere, “ my mind is 
made up; lam not to be dissuaded. At the worst, 
I can but fall into my enemy’s hands; and there 
was some talk this morning, or I much mistake, 
of surrender. The unruly varlets seemed even to 
threaten; maybe they will ope the gates and yield 
me prisoner behind my back. I like not the pros- 
pect; I will quit the castle to-morrow night. Be 
sure, if I win through, that you shall be richly 
rewarded.” 

We arranged the place of meeting and the 


1 84 the knight of the golden chain. 

hour, and Gundulf hastily departed. The Em- 
press watched as he stole across the ice, and her 
woman’s wit caught at something of which we 
should never have thought. 

“ See you now,” she cried, pointing with one 
hand to the dark figure, “ were yonder churl but 
garbed in white the enemy could not see him, 
not even if they passed within spear’s length.” 

“ By the bones of my father but the Empress 
is right,” exclaimed Sir Ermenald. “ She has hit 
the clout fairly. If we all wore white mantles, 
I believe we might pass through unseen.” 

He would have said more, but there came 
rather a startling interruption. The Empress was 
still following Gundulf with her eyes, and, as he 
stole up to the bank, she moved forward and leant 
over the embrasure the better to see him. The 
moon was just beginning to peep forth. Its faint 
light fell full upon her figure, and at once an arrow 
whizzed so close by her head that it stirred her 
hood. Had it been aimed but a hand’s breadth 
lower, the Lady’s earthly troubles would have ended. 
Without a start or cry she turned and looked where 
it hung quivering in a crevice of the wall. 

‘‘ I accept the omen,” she cried joyfully. 

Death has passed me by, I shall succeed, and my 
son will not arrive to find his mother prisoner. 
Haste we now to have all in readiness; I would 
not miss this chance for my kingdom.” And she 
quitted the battlements with all speed, eager for 
this new enterprise. 


CHAPTER XXL 


THE LADY ESCAPES. 

Our design was kept very secret, and few 
within the castle were allowed to know what was 
in contemplation. Had traitors been about, as was 
very like, and news of our intent got wind, all 
would have been lost. So it was but a small party 
of us assembled on the walls the next night; just 
the few in the secret who came to speed us. 

We had thought at first of stealing through a 
small postern which gave on to the frozen^ river, 
and creeping round beneath the walls to where 
Gundulf would await us; but on making the at- 
tempt we found the watch was much too close, 
we had to draw back again in a hurry. There 
was nothing for it but to keep to the side where 
our friend was on guard; therefore was it needful 
that we should be lowered from the battlement by 
ropes. Even that did not quell the brave Lady’s 
courage. When we gathered on the walls, clad 
in white from head to foot, with white hoods drawn 
closely over our heads, she helped with her own 
hands adjust the rope that was to let her down, 
and mocked me for my gloomy countenance. 

13 185 


1 86 the knight of the golden chain. 

For, now it was too late, my heart misgave 
me. I had cause to look doleful. It was I first 
suggested the plan, I had brought her to speech 
with Gundulf; if we failed they might even call 
me traitor. And again, Gundulf might have prom- 
ised more than he could perform ; the guard 
might have been changed; he might not be there 
to meet us — a hundred things, until I liked not 
the enterprise at all. But the Empress for once 
was kind; indeed, of late, she had been softer to 
all. “ Fear not, O knight of the rueful counte- 
nance,’’ she said just ere I went down, “ I had good 
dreams last night. Remember how the arrow 
passed me by. Have no fear; we shall succeed.” 

I was lowered first in order to meet Gundulf, 
the others coming presently after me. I crossed 
the ice without difficulty, but on the further side 
found myself alone. Gundulf was not there. He 
was to have been at a certain spot awaiting us, 
but I could find no sign of him. By stooping 
down I could discern traces of footprints in the 
snow as if one had been thither and made away 
again ; but I durst not follow them far lest it 
should be some other than Gundulf, and I should 
fall into the hands of the foe. I did not doubt 
my faithful servant, yet it seemed as if my fears 
were to prove well founded. My dismay was great. 
Presently my mistress would be by my side and 
what was I to say to her. 

I bent down to examine the footmarks yet 
again. Had Gundulf been forced to return, he 


THE LADY ESCAPES. 


187 


might have made some sign. As I rose, my hood 
fell back and left my head uncovered. At once, a 
dark figure slowly rose from behind a snow-cov- 
ered bush, and a startled voice muttered softly. 
My lord, my lord, is it you indeed? ” It was 
the voice of Gundulf. 

''It is I myself; who else should it be, seeing 
I was to meet you here?'’ I retorted with some 
anger. " A fine fright you have given me. Why 
hide yourself so closely? It is past the time you 
promised to be waiting.” 

" I have been waiting long, my lord, and I have 
been looking to see you come over the walls this 
half-hour. But there has been nothing save snow- 
drifts which came down somewhat strangely. I 
thought perchance you were clearing away the 
snow to make it easier for the Lady, and feared 
lest you might be discovered. I saw you not until 
your hood fell back, although you must have 
passed within a few paces of me; it is your white 
garments against the snow. By St. Dunstan if 
you all be garbed like that, we shall win through 
without trouble.” 

" It was the Lady's own contrivance, Gundulf,” 
I said, well pleased the device answered so well, 
though I had been frightened not a little through 
it. " Not a man of us had wit enough to think of 
such a thing. But come, she will be waiting, won- 
dering what has become of us.” 

We hastened back to the river-side, and so true 
was the disguise, although I knew exactly where 


1 88 the knight of the golden chain. 


they should be, I came plump upon the little 
group before I saw them. 

A mantle had been brought for Gundulf and, 
soon as he folded it about him, we set forth in 
single file. Gundulf led the way, glancing every 
moment to right and left of him warily. I followed, 
then came the Empress and the two knights, her 
companions. We proceeded thus for some space 
without a word, winding right through the midst 
of the enemy’s lines. It was in our favour, though 
it added much to the hardships of the way, that 
very soon the snow began to fall again, and as we 
climbed the hill the wind drove whirling flakes 
full in our faces until at times we were well-nigh 
blinded. But it helped to hide us as we passed, 
and nothing else mattered. 

Yet was our road full of peril. More than once 
we came within a few yards of some watchful 
sentinel pacing to and fro on his beat, but we 
glided noiselessly past like shadows upon the drift- 
ing snow. One hard by us called and challenged 
his fellow. For the moment, my heart well nigh 
stopped beating. I thought he had seen us; then 
presently came the answering cry which showed 
us all was safe. But so often was the silence of 
night broken by the clang of the trumpet and cry 
of the guard, that we were every moment in fear, 
expecting to be espied. 

Once only did we really come nigh to discov- 
ery. Suddenly, without the slightest warning — 
for the horses in the soft snow made no sound — 


THE LADY ESCAPES. 


189 

there came a jangling of arms right across our 
path, a little troop of horsemen were almost upon 
us. They were so close there was no time even 
to turn aside; our moving figures would have been 
seen. Down, down all of ye as I do,’’ cried Gun- 
dulf under his breath, throwing himself flat upon 
the snow. 

We followed his example, the Empress, brave 
lady, quick as any, and, although they came so 
close that a horse trod on my cloak, yet went they 
past and did not see us. They rode on, looking 
neither to right nor to left, with mantles folded 
close and heads downbent to escape the storm. 

'' It is the captain of the guard making his 
round,” muttered Gundulf, as he rose to his feet 
again. I knew not that he came this road. We 
can make more speed now; the worst is over.” 

No further incident befell us, and we stumbled 
on with what haste we could. Six weary miles we 
had of it all the way to Abingdon, now plunging 
through snowdrifts that threatened to bury us, now 
falling headlong over hidden obstacles, an icy blast 
blowing in our faces all the time. If it were hard 
for us, what must it have been for the Empress? 
She was half-frozen with cold, her wet garments 
clung about her limbs, at times she could scarce 
walk. Yet did she make light of all, caring for 
naught so she might escape falling into the hands 
of Stephen. 

Gundulf had horses in waiting for us at Abing- 
don, and the Empress, worn and weary though she 


igO the knight OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

was, would tarry not one moment for rest or 
warmth. She rode on at once, nor drew rein until 
safe under the protection of Brian Fitz-Count in his 
fortress of Wallingford. 

Great were the rejoicings at her unexpected 
arrival; for her friends had given her up as lost, 
knowing full well that Earl Robert could not arrive 
in time. Soon as we were gone the castle surren- 
dered; but the king had little satisfaction in it, for 
he had lost his prey. 

News of the Lady's escape was sent on at once 
to my lord the Karl, who was even then marching 
upon Oxford. He turned aside with great joy, 
bringing with him the young Henry. And now 
were the Lady's troubles all forgotten in delight at 
embracing her son. The young prince — now our 
gracious lord. King Henry, whom may Heaven 
long preserve! — being at that time a boy of some 
nine years, full of energy even then, and not 
easily daunted or discouraged. 

Robert the Earl did not linger long at Walling- 
ford, but continued his march against Stephen, and 
there was fought a great battle without the walls 
of Wilton. This time did it please Heaven to bless 
our arms. Had he not sought safety by ignomini- 
ous flight, Stephen himself had been again our 
prisoner. He almost fell into my hands, though 
few men ever knew how near I came to capturing 
the king. 

Since Oxford, the Empress had been more gra- 
cious to me, and by her desire I was given a fol- 


THE LADY ESCAPES. 


I9I 

lowing of horsemen under my command. I had 
been among the foremost, when, the tide of battle 
ebbing, I was left somewhat outside. Gathering 
my men together, I was scanning the field to see 
where I could best strike in again, when I became 
aware of a little party of horsemen galloping my 
way. At first I took them for our own men, until 
I caught sight of two tall figures sheathed in bright 
armour, one with a golden circlet about his helm. 

“ It is the king and my lord of Winchester,” I 
cried, setting spurs to my horse. “ They fly the 
field. On, on! and we shall capture them.” 

At sight of my pursuit, the horsemen swerved 
aside, though without lessening their pace. As I 
neared them, the greater number dropped behind 
to stay me whilst those surrounding the king con- 
tinued their flight. A few minutes, just long 
enough unfortunately to give the little band time 
to range in order, and I was upon them. I tried 
to push through, to ride over them by weight of 
numbers; but their leader, a stripling from his size, 
had so well disposed his men, and had them so well 
in hand I was foiled at every point. 

We slew some, trampled down more — no res- 
pite, no breathing time was allowed; and still they 
held the road. We must overcome in the end; 
but, meantime, the king was escaping, and, full 
of fury, I made for the youth who led them so 
well, and who had hitherto eluded me. And when 
we met face to face it was Aylmer. He bore the 
two hands clasped upon his shield as he had prom- 


192 the knight of the golden chain. 

ised, and, as he wiped the heat of battle from his 
brow, he laughed. 

“ Be content, good brother,” he said. “ The 
fortune of the day is with you, but you will not 
catch the king. You may ride over our dead bodies 
if you will; in no other way can you pass us. What 
say you? Fight it out, or let us go?” 

I sheathed my sword without a word, bitterly 
disappointed at losing my prey, yet proud that it 
should have been Aylmer who so bravely with- 
Stood me. 

Nay, look not so gloomy, man,’’ he continued. 
“ The battle is not always to the strong, else would 
it fare ill with me.” 

“ Needs no strong arm where is a head like 
yours,” I replied half angrily. “ But for you, I 
had scattered your men like chaff. Go your ways; 
if your king be grateful you should come to high 
honour, you have saved him from bonds this day.” 
And I drew off my men — who were nothing loth — 
they had had enough of it — whilst Aylmer slowly 
retreated, keeping always in battle array, ready to 
turn and fight on the instant. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


DAME JOAN ASSERTS HERSELF. 

After Wilton, open warfare almost ceased for 
a time, though there came no peace to the land 
not even for a day. The Empress held her court 
at Gloucester, acknowledged ruler of all the West, 
whilst the young prince abode with his uncle at 
Bristol. A year or so after the Empress had re- 
tired to Gloucester, there was brought about a 
meeting between her and Stephen to treat for 
peace. But it came to nothing, as might have been 
expected from two such obstinate natures, and 
matters remained just as before. Yet if the con- 
ference gave no peace to the realm, thanks to 
Aylmer it brought some good to me. When the 
king came to the appointed meeting-place, Aylmer 
was one of those who rode in his train, and blithe 
were we to meet again. He brought messages 
from Ela, who, thanks be to Heaven, was safe and 
well. Then he put into my mind to ask boldly for 
her hand. 

If you do not make sure in this short time of 
peace, she may be given to some other,” he said. 
“ Though the maid has neither lands nor name her 

193 


1^4 the knight of the golden chain. 


face is fair, and the queen is well enough pleased 
with her to bestow a dowry. Then might you 
blame me and say I had taken little care of her.’’ 

I lost not a moment in taking his advice, and 
seeking my lord the Earl begged he would demand 
the damsel in marriage for me. He was somewhat 
reluctant at first, because she was landless; but 
when he found my mind was set on the matter he 
gave way, vowing with a laugh I should repent 
my haste when I grew older. He wrote a most 
courteous letter to Queen Maud, sending it by the 
hand of a knight of rank, to do more honour to me. 

Thereupon, Aylmer having leave from his king, 
we rode together to Lincoln, where the wife ot 
Stephen was then residing. She received us gra- 
ciously and gave her consent at once — solely for 
love of the good Earl, she said, she liked not part- 
ing from her favourite maid. I was in brave spir- 
its, thinking all my troubles were at an end, when 
Dame Joan interposed. The old woman would 
have none of it; Ela, she declared, had made sol- 
emn vow to remain with her as long as she lived. 
I prayed the dame to come with us, promising 
her a safe home at Gloucester; but she cried aloud, 
rating the Empress with hard words, calling us all 
ill-men and robbers. She stormed and raved, then 
entreated with tears and loving words, until Ela’s 
tender heart was fain to give in to her. 

A little patience, Alain,” she prayed, seeing 
that I was angered. The dame was good to me 
when I had no friend but you. She gave me a 


DAME JOAN ASSERTS HERSELF. 


195 


home, she has treated me ever as her own child; 
Heaven would not bless us if I forsook her. It 
can not be for long, and surely we can afford to 
wait awhile. You do not doubt my faith, dear 
Alain?" 

‘‘ If I doubted you, I think I should doubt of 
Heaven itself. But these are ill times, and we 
know not what may befall us. I would make sure 
of you while I can." 

That is just what the good dame says," Ela 
returned, yet there was a tear in her eye. The 
times are ill is ever her word, and were aught to 
befall you I should have no protector. She is sore 
afraid of the wild Welsh, Earl Robert has around 
him in the West." 

“ The Welsh would not hurt you whilst my 
lord is there to control them. They are no worse, 
nay they are not near so bad, as your king's hire- 
ling Flemings." 

'' Yet would the poor woman fall sick of fright 
did we venture to take her among them, and never 
could I be happy if I brought ill to her." 

“ It shall be as you will, you must have your 
■ way as ever," I replied sullenly, though I felt 
shame for it directly after. 

It was ill done to give her more pain. Was 
it not as hard for Ela as for me? and I added 
quickly, in softer tones : If we can not wed, at 
least we may plight our troth openly before the 
priest, then can they not give you to another." 

And thus it ended. We were solemnly be- 


196 the knight of the golden chain. 

trothed before the whole court, the good queen 
aiding and consenting, and speaking to me many 
gracious words afterward, promising to befriend 
Ela until I came to claim her. With that I was 
forced to be content, returning as I came, instead 
of with a fair bride beside me. Our parting was 
full sorrowful, though had I guessed how long it 
would be ere she was my wife in earnest, my heart 
would have been even heavier. 

“ Fret not yourself, good brother,” cried Ayl- 
mer, to cheer me, as he rode in my company for 
part of the way. “ If you have not gained all, you 
have something and that not a little; she is yours 
to claim when you may. And I can now watch 
over her by right. I had to act in secret before 
lest men should question what was the maid to 
me, and so speak lightly of her. Now, she is my 
sister in good truth. By St. Edmund, brother, have 
no fear; the old dame — plague take her — can not 
last much longer.” 

I fret not,” I answered, speaking lightly as I 
could. “ I am no puling boy to cry for what I 
can not get, else would Ela be shamed for me.” 

“ I think Ela will ne’er be shamed for her 
knight, and if this conference come to naught, as 
all men seem to think, soon will fresh blows help 
you to forget your troubles.” 

Would you were by my side to direct me,” I 
cried to this. With your wiser head to guide my 
strong arm not a man could stand against us. I 
would you followed my lord the Earl.” 


DAME JOAN ASSERTS HERSELF. 197 

“ That were foolish indeed, to be both on the 
same side and thus risk all, whereas now one or 
the other must win. If the Countess of Anjou 
became Lady of England again, which I deem little 
likely, you can take me under your wing, and all 
will be right for both.” 

With talk like this we beguiled the way until 
we were near our parting. Then after a short space 
of silence, Aylmer said abruptly, “ Can you spare 
a thought, Alain, for that far-off day when I slew 
the lad Baldwin? I ask not if you remember what 
you suffered for it.” 

“That was not your fault,” I cried quickly, 
knowing well how Aylmer, spite of his light words, 
ever felt upon that matter. “ And the caitiff who 
worked the ill received his deserts long since. Did 
I not tell you at Gloucester how Gundulf brought 
him to his end! But why speak of it now?” 

“ Because when your name was bruited abroad 
as one of those who helped the Countess to escape 
from Oxford — we call her never Empress or Lady 
like to you — there came one who spake ill of you 
before the king, telling that old tale with many 
lies added thereto. Also must my lord of Win- 
chester join in— that you had come to him and he 
would have none of you, but that Robert of 
Gloucester, who cared not what cut-throats were 
in his train, had taken you into his service.’ 

“ The Bishop said that, he the friend of William 
of Ypres? ” I exclaimed. 

“ Even so, and men laughed a little, knowing 


Iq8 the knight of the golden chain. 

what sort he holds in his pay at Winchester. But 
touching that other matter, after craving leave to 
speak, I stood forth before them all and told the 
truth.'' 

“You told them that you slew Baldwin?" 

“ That did I ; did I not promise to avow it 
when the time came? They can do me no harm 
now; since Wilton the king makes much of me, 
he will stand my friend. And I mean to avow it 
yet once more; I swore it to myself when I stood 
by your side and all men shrank from you. If all 
go well, in that same place, before St. Edmund's 
shrine and Baldwin's kin, we will stand together 
again, whilst I confess myself his slayer." 

“ Not with my good will " I was beginning, 

when he stayed me with: 

“ It matters not, the time is yet far off, per- 
chance may never come. My friends seemed to 
think no worse of me for what I avowed; at least 
they showed it not, and truly there has been so 
much blood spilt since, a man more or less matters 
little. But one who loved not my lord Bishop 
said softly, yet so as all might hear, ' Then it is 
to my lord of Winchester we owe it that the 
Countess was snatched from our grasp so cleverly. 
It is a pity we lost the youth, but it matters not, 
the saints be praised, • my lord has no ill-doers in 
his household.' There was great mirth, even the 
king joining in, though it is a sore subject with 
him, and had you seen the Bishop's face, Alain, 
you would have felt avenged. But I have ridden 


DAME JOAN ASSERTS HERSELF. 199 

too far already, it is time I turned.” And with 
that he drew rein, and after a few more words we 
parted, Aylmer wending his way back, whilst I 
continued my journey to Gloucester. 

And at Gloucester, in the service of the Em- 
press, I abode for four long years, taking my part 
in all that went on, and having my full share of 
hard blows. For there was ever fighting on hand, 
castles to be taken or held against the foe, skirmish- 
ing with small bodies of the king's troops, or the 
putting down of some rebellious baron thinking 
to join the king. Yet it troubled me that I could 
hear so little of Ela. Aylmer would send a letter 
now and again, when by some rare chance there 
was a safe messenger; he could write well as any 
clerk, it irked him not to take pen in hand. As 
for me, the trick of writing never came to me. I 
might fashion a word or two, I could make my 
name; but set down what was in my mind that 
could I never, nor could I tell it to others to write 
for me. I used to send back tokens to Ela, once a 
jewel, part of a ransom I received for a prisoner, 
another time a piece of ivory from the East cun- 
ningly carved, that I bought from a holy palmer; 
I had only that way to let her know I was alive 
and ever thinking of her. 

I might have obtained a safe-conduct and ridden 
south to claim my bride had not Dame Joan con- 
tinued to stand in the way. Every time Aylmer 
wrote me she was as vigorous as ever, nor did her 
opposition abate. I fear rather that as time went 


200 the knight of the golden chain. 


on it increased. She forgot she had once favoured 
me, and grew ill-inclined to the match altogether, 
wishing Ela to wed with one of the king’s party. 
Did aught happen to me — as might chance any 
day — the damsel would be free; or could she gain 
Ela to her own way of thinking, there would be 
small difficulty in annulling the betrothal. Heaven 
forgive me if I wrong the old dame; she had been 
kind to me once and I tried hard to wish her no 
ill; but had she retired to a convent to end her 
days as once she purposed, much trouble would 
have been spared to us. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


I AM CAPTURED. 

When hard upon three years out of the four I 
spent at Gloucester had gone by, of a sudden there 
came a change. Out of misfortune there befell 
me a great joy, though as usual a sting was not 
wanting in the tail of it. My misfortune was to^be 
taken prisoner; my joy once again to see Ela. 

On one of our marauding expeditions a little 
troop of us, led by my old friend Haimo of Ivry 
—who had completely recovered of the wounds he 
received at Wherwxll — fell into a cunningly con- 
trived ambuscade, so that we were forced to yield. 
Sir Haimo was detained until the king’s pleasure 
might be known; the rest of us were held to ran- 
som or exchanged. Unfortunately for me a rumour 
had got abroad that I was high in favour with Earl 
Robert and the Empress, and my ransom was fixed 
accordingly. It was an outrageous sum for a land- 
less knight of no renown; I had no means of my 
own, and my lord, very justly, refused to pay it. 
He would exchange a knight of equal rank, he 
said, or treat for me soon as my captors would 
listen to reason; until then I must remain a pris- 
oner. 


14 


201 


202 the knight OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

I had fallen to the share of one Bevis of Strete- 
ham, who, save for his exorbitant demands, used 
me full courteously. Soon as I gave him my word, 
he made me free from all constraint; and when, 
after a time he set forth to Lincoln, where the king 
then held his court, I rode beside him more as an 
honoured guest than a prisoner. And at the court 
of Stephen I found Queen Maud, his wife, and her 
train of damsels. Ela held but a lowly post among 
them, and often I fear she was flouted for her un- 
known lineage; yet did many men deem her fair, 
and many a knight sought to break lance in her 
favour. I saw her oft, thanks to Sir Bevis, who 
put no more constraint upon me than before; I 
went to and fro at my pleasure, just as if I were a 
free man. There wanted only Aylmer to make my 
content complete; but he was absent on the king’s 
business, I saw him not at all. 

My days at first passed pleasantly enough. I 
made many good friends and all went well, until 
an adventure befell me I care not to think of even 
now, though it was long before I saw the drift of it. 

Amongst the noble ladies I met at the queen’s 
palace was one Adela, Countess of Clapa, sister to 
Sir Bevis, my captor. Her husband had fallen at 
Wilton; she was a widow with a goodly inherit- 
ance, a strong castle and large estates, besides a 
small stronghold not many miles from Lincoln. 
Now this Lady Adela, though a widow, was still 
young, and considered exceeding fair, and of a 
verity I do not deny it. She had eyes blue and 


I AM CAPTURED. 


203 


soft as the sky on a summer’s morning; her hair 
was of the colour of new gold; and, having dwelt 
some time at the court of Provence, she had learned 
there many witching ways and tricks of speech 
which took men’s fancies mightily. There were 
more great lords than I know of making suit to 
wed her, but the king would bestow her upon none. 
She had bewitched him also, it was said, and he 
•vowed she should make her choice as she pleased. 
But as yet the lady seemed not in a hurry to take 
any new master; she smiled upon all, but showed 
especial favour to none. It is ill-done to leave 
women thus to their own devices, for few there be 
wise like Ela, and evil came of it. 

I was thrown much in the company of the 
young Countess, she dwelling in her brother’s 
house. I met her daily in hall and at board, and 
ever as the days went on she showed me increasing 
kindness. I thought naught of it, I was unused 
to her ways, I knew not even that she was more 
gracious to me than to others. When with Ela 
I had no eyes, no thoughts but for her; out of her 
presence the other pleased me well enough, she 
served to pass the time. I was grateful for the 
lady’s courtesy, and, besides, in that she was sis- 
ter to my captor, I felt bound to obey her behests, 
to carry out the small duties she oft imposed on me. 

It was Ela who first gave me a hint of danger, 
though she did not speak plain enough for my dull 
wit to understand. 

Good Brother Simple,” she said to me one 


204 KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

day somewhat sharply, when no one chanced to 
be near us, ‘‘ is it not time that you were ran- 
somed? 

I made no answer but for a foolish smile, so 
pleased was I to hear the old name again. 

Art grown deaf? canst not hear? ” she re- 
peated, tapping her foot impatiently upon the 
ground. “ When, I say, is your lord to pay your 
ransom? '' 

‘‘ Not until Sir Bevis lowers his price, I fear,’’ I 
returned. When Aylmer comes back, perchance 
he may bring him to reason. Yet am I well con- 
tent to w^ait, seeing that my captivity has brought 
me to you.” 

And I am not content at all. I would you 
were safe back among your wild Welsh, though 
truly I shall be loth to lose you.” 

‘‘ Come with me, then,” I cried quickly. Sure- 
ly Dame Joan has had you long enough; it is time 
you thought of me.” 

Ela shook her head with more sadness than I 
had yet seen in her, but her tone was firm as ever 
as she answered, I can not forsake the poor dame. 
She is growing feeble, she looks to me more and 
more every day.” 

Then why wish me gone, unless indeed you 
are tired of me.” 

That was speech my little maid would not con- 
descend to answer. She only looked at me wist- 
fully, with something in her glance I could not 
understand. Then abruptly again : Alain, you 


I AM CAPTURED. 205 

are in danger here. I would Sir Bevis kept you 
closer in bond.’' 

“ That would not I. I love not prison walls. 
And what danger can there be? What man would 
harm me when he would have to answer for it to 
Sir Bevis? ” 

“ I said not you were in danger from any man ; ” 
and there came a little frown upon her brow as if 
she were displeased. 

‘‘ What is the trouble, Ela? ” and I took her 
hand. ‘‘ Tell me plainly what you fear.” 

Yet would she not speak out, but said only, “ I 
would Aylmer were here; his wits are as quick as 
yours are slow.” 

‘'That is true enough; I should be the last to 
gainsay it, yet I need not Aylmer to defend me. 
Show me where the danger lies and I will answer 
for the rest.” 

“ It is not for me to show you,” and she with- 
drew her hand with a petulance that surprised 
me. “ If you see not for yourself, perchance after 

all it matters little. Yet ” and here she 

broke of¥ abruptly as the Lady Adela came into 
view. 

We had been talking in hall, and the Countess 
was at the far end; but there was that in Ela’s 
face made me cry, “ You would not have me think 
the Lady Adela my enemy? Then, Ela, you are 
wrong; she has ever been most gracious. It is 
owing partly to her that Sir Bevis treats me so 
well; she has told me so herself.” 


2o6 the knight of the golden chain. 


“ And for that reason I suppose she uses you 
as her page.” Ela's eyes sparkled with anger. 

“ Maybe — I know not; at least it makes me 
bound to obey her. She bade me wait upon her 
this morning. I ought to have been with her ere 
now, but seeing you I forgot everything.” 

Yet, Alain, beware ” She had no time for 

more, the lady was near at hand, and both of us 
made deep obeisance as befitted her superior rank. 
The young Countess seemed in a marvellous ill- 
temper, and chided me for my default in no very 
soft tones; then she whispered a word in Ela’s ear 
I could not catch. That it was something ill- 
natured, I doubted not, for my little maid flushed 
crimson as with another deep courtesy she retired. 
This angered me, so that I answered the lady very 
shortly when presently she turned to me again, 
and for a few days there was ill-humour between us. 

I cared nothing; it mattered not to me; but 
unhappily it lasted not long. The Countess sent 
for me privily, and craved my pardon for her ill- 
temper in such gracious fashion I must have been 
churlish indeed not to hearken. After that, though 
she showed me not so much favour in public, the 
lady was for ever sending for me on some pretence 
or other; until at last even to my dull wits there 
came what was meant by it, what Ela had feared. 
Yet for long was I reluctant to believe. I had 
no great conceit of myself that I should deem such 
a thing likely. 

Now as to what chanced next, and all that fol- 


1 AM CAPTURED, 


207 


lowed after it is hateful for a man to speak; yet 
as I am put to telling the whole truth needs must 
that I set it down. I gave my word once to keep 
silence, but Sir Bevis is long since dead, my hps 
are now unsealed. Passing over all those eager 
suitors who would so fain have wed her, the Lady 
Adela unluckily fixed her mind upon me, a man 
troth-plight already. Truly had I been free, it 
would have made no difference. She was never 
the woman for me, as I was forced one day to tell 
her somewhat bluntly. For, finding me still deaf 
and blind to what she fain would have me under- 
stand, the lady at length spoke out her mind in 
plain fashion. She told me of her possessions— 
her lands, her strong castle, her store of money— 
and offered to make me lord of all. And, more- 
over, she showed me well she had no thought I 
could hold back. 

By my faith, I was hard put to it. No youth- 
ful knight was ever in such strait before. It was 
truly a great honour the lady intended me, though 
some might think her over-bold in proffering it, 
and I wished not to anger her more than needful. 
I stammered something, I scarce knew what, save 
that I was as good as married already; but the 
Countess, who knew that full well, put it by with a 
smile. 

“ Nay, if that is all, you are not so far bound 
but the knot can easily be loosed,” she said, and 
went on with other foolish talk to persuade me. 
At last she spoke some slighting word of Ela, 


2o8 the knight of the golden chain. 

which made me wrath, and without further ado 
I gave her all my mind. When it was over I had 
much fear. I have ever been afraid of an angry 
woman, and at first the lady’s fury was terrible. 
Then suddenly, to my exceeding wonder, there 
came a strange change; she burst into a fit of 
shrieking laughter, pointing her finger at me in 
scorn. 

See you now, the fool takes it all for earnest,” 
she cried, laughing again until the tears came. 
‘‘ Oh, you simpleton, not to guess I was but jest- 
ing! Now, have you made me lose my wager. 
And betwixt laughing and sobbing she explained 
how she had staked a costly jewel, vowing I was 
too wise to be deceived by her. 

“ There was talk of you in hall,” she went on, 
“ and one avowed your head was turned because I 
had showed you some slight favour. ' ’Tis false,’ 
I answered; ‘he is not so witless;’ so we agreed 
I should put some small play upon you to show 
the truth, and, lo! you have proved me wrong.” 

And I, like the simpleton I was, believed her. 
It was much easier to think she had been fooling 
me, playing upon me an idle jest after the man- 
ner of fair ladies, than to deem her words were 
true. 

Then the Lady Adela’s mood changed again, 
and she turned upon me with fierce anger. 

“ Begone, sirrah, why linger here? I care not 
to lose my fair jewels. Begone to your black- 
browed love and tell her how you have been fooled. 


I AM CAPTURED. 209 

I warrant we shall have the laugh of you in hall 
this night.” 

I slunk away, my face red to my ears, too con- 
fused even to sue for pardon. I breathed not a 
word of what had passed, not even to Ela; I was 
too ashamed. The Countess had made a fool of 
me in truth, though scarcely in the way I first 
imagined. Yet, after a time, when I found men 
did not laugh or jeer, neither could I see they made 
a mock of me behind my back, my courage re- 
turned and I took heart again. The lady had been 
kinder than her word; she had not told my tale to 
all. Unhappily the Countess had not done with 
me. I had offended her mightily, and she meant 
to take her revenge. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


A HUNTING PARTY. 

During the first period of my discomfiture I 
had some talk with Sir Bevis concerning my ran- 
som. I had come to be of the same mind as Ela, 
to think it high time I were gone. He acknowl- 
edged to me he had been misled concerning my 
position; that I was not so important a personage 
as he thought; and he agreed at length to reduce 
his claim to a more moderate sum such as I thought 
my lord would pay. Messengers were sent to Bris- 
tol forthwith, and when I told Ela what I had 
done, it pleased her well. I would have said 
naught of the Lady Adela— I cared not to speak 
of her— yet Ela knew without telling that 
something more than ordinary had passed between 
us. 

“Tell me truly, Alain,’’ she said— and in her 
earnestness she laid her hand upon my arm 
“have you angered the Countess?” 

“ Maybe; I care not,” I answered indifierently. 
“ It is rather that she has angered me.” 

Ela gave me one long look, until it seemed to 
me she had divined all. 


210 


A HUNTING PARTY. 


21 1 


Bid me say the word, and I will tell you how 
it chanced,’’ I went on, though I am loath to 
speak. Suffice it that she fooled me until I grow 
red only to think of it. She made a sport of me 
for amusement.” 

“Then it must be that you ” And her 

voice faltered. She turned white as death, and 
there was that in her eyes I could not read, though 
she withdrew her hand hastily. I should know 
now the word she was waiting for quick enough; 
but then I was a witless oaf, and guessed nothing 
save that my little maid was pained, and I won- 
dered why. At last her words came, “ Dost care 
for her, Alain?” 

She spoke so soft I scare could hear, yet a 
thunderbolt would not have startled me more. 
“ Care for her? ” I exclaimed, and stood staring 
open-mouthed in dumb surprise that she should 
imagine such a thing. 

As ever with Ela, my simpleness stood me in 
good stead. No word could have served so well as 
my amaze. The pained look died from her face, 
and, though her eyes were full of tears, yet did 
they glance and shine like tears of joy. But for 
all that she would finish her speech, and she con- 
tinued gravely: 

“ Sure am I, Alain, that the Lady Adela fa- 
vours you, and it would be a great match. It 
would raise you at once to wealth and power. I 
told you long since it was thus you ought to wed. 
And, remember, the troth-plight is easily broken. 


212 the knight of THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

I would not hold you for an hour an you would 
be free.’’ 

‘‘ Do you want to be free, Ela? ” I cried, a 
dreadful fear coming upon me in my turn. 

“ It is not I who am in question, silly boy,” 
and she grew more joyous every minute. “ Listen.” 
She enumerated the lady Adela’s possessions one 
by one, ticking them oE upon her fingers. “ All 
these may be yours to deal with as you list, so 
you but pay your court to the fair Countess. And 
Aylmer would like it well. He thinks, as I do, 
that it is not wise to wed with me.” 

‘‘ Speak you this in good sooth, Ela, or are you 
but saying it to try me?” 

‘‘ What if I am? ” and her eyes danced blithely. 
“ There is good reason in my words, and you have 
not answered them.” 

I would not court the Countess did she have 
all England for her dowry, and that you know full 
well,” L cried angrily. ‘‘Neither would she heed 
me if I did. If you are tired of me, as may well 
chance, seeing you are so sharp of wit and I so 
slow, say it out in plain words a simple man can 
understand, and I will let you go. It will be like 
cutting myself in twain, yet would it hurt me more 
to hold you against your will. Say truly now, art 
weary of me?” 

For the first time in her life Ela put her arms 
about my neck and laid her cheek close to mine. 
“ I am not weary yet of good Brother Simple. I 
would not change him for all the world.” 


A HUNTING PARTY. 213 

‘‘ Then why vex me thus, sweet? ’’ for indeed I 
had been much moved. 

“Did I begin it? and she looked into my 
face; then, seeing I still did not understand, went 
on quickly, Ay, verily I did, and I am to blame. 
Canst forgive me, Alain?’' 

I answered not in words, and presently we fell 
to foolish lovers’ talk, which concerns no one but 
ourselves. 

This encounter with Ela cheered me mightily. 
I held up my head and cared for no man; neither 
did I shrink, as aforetime, from meeting the Count- 
ess. And now it was that, somewhat to my sur- 
prise, that lady began once more to speak me fair. 
But although I observed all due courtesy, I held 
aloof from her much as I could. I wanted not to 
be her sport again. 

Matters were thus between us, when King 
Stephen marched forth to punish a rebellious 
baron, and Sir Bevis went with him, bidding me 
abide his return. They had not gone many days, 
when, to divert Queen Maud, v/ho was always sad 
at heart when her lord was absent, there was ar- 
ranged a great party to hunt the stag, and I was 
invited to take share in it. We sallied forth in the 
early morning, after brief hunting mass, the horns 
sounding merrily, the good hounds eager as we; 
and, after a space, we roused a tall stag. It was 
a gallant beast, and a brave run he gave us, over 
hill and dale and marsh, until at last he was 
brought to bay in thick forest, and the knife drawn 


214 the knight of the golden chain. 

across his throat. Ela and I rode together and 
merry sport we had, and a right happy time. But 
after the stag was killed I had to leave her for a 
while, and help keep the hounds from straying, 
until we made on again. 

Whilst thus apart from her, the hounds having 
picked up a fresh scent, yet at first being some- 
what at fault, I was riding slowly, waiting to see 
which way the chase would break, when the young 
Countess suddenly drew rein close beside me. It 
was in a narrow glade bordered by beech-trees, 
whither I had made thinking to meet Ela, and, 
save one solitary horseman standing motionless in 
the far distance, no one else was near. The sound- 
ing of horns, the baying of hounds, and shouts of 
huntsmen were all about us, yet for the moment 
no man could be seen. I was vexed to be caught 
thus, and would have made onward, but the ydal 
stayed me. 

^‘Know you this?’’ she said, holding out her 
hand with her brother’s ring. 

“ It is the signet of Sir Bevis wherewith he 
seals his name,” I answered, looking closely that 
I might not be deceived. 

Even so; and he sends it as a token by me; 
needs must that you obey him.” 

I am perfectly willing to obey him,” I re- 
plied. ‘‘Sir Bevis knows it; he does not doubt 
me.” 

Then will you have the less difficulty in ful- 
filling his commands. It has been whispered iri 


A HUNTING PARTY. 


215 


his ear that, tired of waiting for ransom, you medi- 
tate flight. He is loath to think so ill of you, yet 
lest there be truth in the words he has sent his 
ring to me. If you be false I am to put you under 
ward; if you be true man you will go with his 
messenger.’' 

I am ready to go, and you know it,” I re- 
turned, looking at her steadily. “ It is a foul lie 
to say I thought of breaking my plighted word;” 
for I had it in my mind that perchance out of re- 
venge it might be the lady herself who had de- 
famed me to Sir Bevis. 

I knew it of a truth, and also did I know how 
the charge would touch you,” and she laughed 
in such strange fashion I marvelled at her. Then 
calming herself, “ Yet will it be well you delay 
not to speak with my brother in person. His mes- 
senger is there,” and she pointed to the man in 
the distance. ‘‘ He has his orders concerning you. 
You are to go back with him even now.” 

‘‘ I am ready,” and I turned my horse about. 

‘‘ I stay but to take leave of ” 

But the Countess wheeled round and blocked 
the narrow track so that I could not pass. “ If it 
is Ela of — nay, her heritage escapes me; I know 
not even that I have heard it,” and her eyes flashed 
as she delivered the gibe — If it is the damsel 
called Ela you mean, I will make fair excuse for 
your absence. You may leave it to me.” 

There needs no excuse but the simple truth,” 
I said in haste, and she is hard by. It would take 


21.6 the knight of the golden chain. 

me but a minute to have a word with her.’’ For 
in that matter I trusted the lady not at all. If she 
did speak with Ela truly it would be only to hurt 
her. 

But the Countess raised her hand menacingly. 
“ By this ring I forbid you. See yonder the mes- 
senger waits. Ride back one step, and I will have 
you put in ward as recreant knight.” 

I was sore vexed at giving Ela no word of 
my abrupt departure, but nothing more. I did not 
suspect the Countess of aught but malice. Never- 
theless I was too angry to answer, and, turning 
my horse again, I rode on to where the man was 
awaiting me beneath the trees. The hunt had re- 
commenced, the hounds were in full cry; but alas! 
they were making off in quite another direction. 
There was no chance of Ela passing. And, as if 
she divined my thought and feared I might turn 
aside after all, the Countess kept pace with me 
stride by stride, until her brother’s messenger came 
forth to meet us. 

As the horseman drew near I gazed upon him 
in astonishment. Never had I seen so big a man. 
I had thought Gundulf a stout varlet, but he was 
a pigmy beside this fellow, so greatly did he tower 
above me. And he was strong, too, in proportion ; 
for I noted the muscles on his hairy hands and 
arms standing out like iron bands; yet for all he 
was so big he was in no way fierce to look upon. 
His ruddy countenance was smiling and cheerful 
and his blue eyes beamed mildly through a bush 


A HUNTING PARTY. 


217 


of shaggy hair. He was a Northman from over- 
sea, I found out after, passing by the name of Big 
Sweyn, and had been thrall to the Countess from 
her childhood. Besides his great size, Sweyn had 
another peculiarity which made him fit servant for 
his mistress; but this I did not discover until later. 
At the time I noted only his height and bulk, and 
pitied the poor beast that had to carry him. 

'' This is the knight, Sweyn,’’ said the Count- 
ess Adela, as we drew rein. He needs no con- 
straint; he rides with you willingly. You have 
your orders; you know what is to be done; see 
you to it that you obey me.” 

The giant made no answer, save to look at me 
hard and nod his head in uncouth fashion. I won- 
dered rather that his mistress did not rate him; 
she was wont to exact much respect from all about 
her. But she seemed not to mind, and, bidding 
him take good care of me, wheeled her horse round 
and departed to rejoin her friends. 

Big Sweyn looked to see if I were ready; then, 
shaking his reins, we rode off in the opposite di- 
rection, and soon left the forest and the merry 
hunt far behind. 

I was too sullen at first, too angry at being sent 
off in such summary fashion, to open my lips; but 
after a few miles I bethought me it might be as 
well to know whither we were bound. I slackened 
speed a little and questioned my conductor. The 
fellow would make no answer good or bad, though 
it was plain he understood my speech. 

15 


2i8 the knight of the golden chain. 

If you are bidden to hold your peace, why 
not say so once for all, and I will forbear asking,’’ 
I cried angrily; but still he spoke no word. 

This offensive behaviour did not make my vexa- 
tion any less, as you may well believe, and I rode 
on in undisguised ill-humour, resolved to make 
my complaint to Sir Bevis as soon as I encoun- 
tered him. It seemed hard that, having given me 
his trust for so long, he should suddenly withdraw 
it in such rude fashion through his sister. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


IN THE TOWER. 

We rode at no great speed. My horse was al- 
ready weary with the chase, and Sweyn seemed in 
no hurry, so that night was almost upon us before 
we reached our destination. This, as far as I could 
perceive through the darkness, was a square tower 
with a few low buildings around, enclosed by strong 
walls and standing in the midst of waste land. 
There was no moat or drawbridge; but the walls 
were so high and massive, it might well have stood 
a siege. The warder scanned us through the gate 
by the light of a blazing torch ere he opened. 
When we passed into the courtyard it was deserted ; 
there was no one even to take our horses. I looked 
around wondering what had become of Sir Bevis 
and his men. 

“ Where is your lord, sirrah? I shouted loudly, 
hoping if the knight were near he would come forth. 
But there came no answer, only an aged crone 
peeped forth from a shed, who, on perceiving me, 
louted low and disappeared. 

The giant swung himself heavily to the ground, 
and, going back to the gate, brought the warder’s 
torch and pointed to the door. 


219 


220 the knight OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

Mean you that I am to go within?” I asked. 

Nay, if Sir Bevis is there why does he not show 
himself? ” For sure was I by the continued silence 
the good knight was not at hand. And the place 
daunted me. All was dark and still, I felt sure I 
had somewhat to fear. 

Even now the varlet would not speak, but put 
his hand upon my shoulder as if to urge me onward. 
But I planted my back against the wall and drew 
my hunting-knife, the only weapon I had. 

“ Give me good reason or I will not stir,” I said 
sternly; “ I like it not that you make me no answer 
when I speak.” 

He looked at me for a short space as if in 
doubt, then, coming closer, opened his mouth and 
held the torch so that I could see. 

The poor wretch had no tongue; it had been 
cut out nearly to the root, so that it was impossible 
for him to speak. It was dreadful to look upon, 
this great tongueless mouth. Coming upon me so 
unexpectedly, I was startled, and jumped aside. 
The next moment I felt ashamed, and a great pity 
came to me. This huge man who looked so strong 
was yet so helpless. 

Sweyn saw the change in my face, and, lowering 
the torch, stood as if awaiting my pleasure. Yet, 
did he mean me ill or well? If he could not speak 
at least he could make signs, and I asked again, 
though in altered tone, Let me know, friend, if 
Sir Bevis be within.” 

Sweyn shook his head in the negative. That 


IN THE TOWER. 


22 I 


made me miore satisfied. Had he signed yes I must 
have distrusted him again, so I went on: “ It is by 
his orders you have brought me here? ’’ 

Once again he nodded, pointing to the weary 
horses who had not moved a pace, as if for explana- 
tion. I laughed withiri myself at my foolishness. " 
We must have halted somewhere for the night, and, 
maybe, this empty tower was the handiest spot, 
though it promised small accommodation. I thrust 
my knife back in belt on the instant. 

“ Lead on, my friend, I follow, and crave par- 
don for distrusting you.’' 

There were more surprises awaiting me within. 
The giant mounted a steep winding-stair almost to 
the top of the building, instead of turning in at the 
nearest door as I expected. And then, in place of 
the rude quarters I thought to find — a bench to sit 
me down, a bundle of straw, or pallet bed at most, 
to sleep on — he ushered me into a chamber ap- 
pointed as for a king. The walls were hung with 
rich arras, the bed softly dight with silken curtains ; 
there were chairs with cushions, and fresh rushes 
upon the floor, while to crown all a small table 
decked with pasty and flagon was set before a blaz- 
ing fire. 

‘‘ This for me! There must be some mistake, it 
is more like a fair lady’s bower,” I exclaimed as I 
looked around, and would have drawn back had 
not Sweyn by looks and gestures encouraged me 
to enter. 

“ I am to stay here?” I asked. 


222 the knight OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

He nodded. 

It has been made ready for me; I was ex- 
pected? ” 

He nodded again vigorously, and, after lighting 
the candle which stood upon a spike above the 
hearth, drew forward a chair, made me sit, and re- 
moved my heavy boots and the hauberk I wore 
beneath my hunting garb. Then he brought water 
to cleanse the soil of the road, and acting as my 
squire served me nigh as well as Gundulf. 

When I had eaten and drank — and so good 
v/ine I never tasted at the king’s palace — Sweyn 
left me, and I threw myself upon the bed to sleep, 
expecting to be on the road again in the early 
morning. But when day came and I essayed to go 
down, lo! the door was fast without. I was a pris- 
oner. I thought little of it at first. I was in 
Sweyn’s charge, it was but to be expected he would 
make sure of me, and I waited with patience until 
he should come. There were but two narrow loop- 
holes for windows, high up in the wall and covered 
with thick horn, so that I could not see much of 
the sun ; but well I knew it was high in the heavens 
before Sweyn made his appearance. ‘‘ Art come 
at last, thou lazy varlet! ’’ I saluted him; I 
thought to have been long on the road ere now.” 

He laughed good-humouredly, and shook his 
shaggy head, then set to blowing up the embers to 
prepare my breakfast. But although it was so late 
as to be well nigh dinner time instead of the first 
meal, Sweyn went about his work with such de- 


IN THE TOWER. 


223 


liberation that a sudden thought striking me, I cried 
sharply : 

“ Ride we on to-day or not? ” 

He shook his head with a laugh that seemed to 
say I might have known that without asking. 

“ Then comes Sir Bevis here? ” 

He stood still now looking troubled, as if it were 
not in his power to satisfy me. 

You do not know? Is that it? 

I was puzzled. If not to meet Sir Bevis why 
had I been brought hither, and for what purpose? 
For right well I knew that if the knight meant to 
keep me in hold it would not be in such quarters. 
My thoughts flew to the Countess Adela, but only 
for a moment; it could scarce be her doing. She 
had sent me away, I was well quit of her, and my 
mind went back to Sir Bevis. He was a man fond 
of playing merry jests, perchance he meant to have 
some sport with me before I left him. At all events 
it behooved me to know just how I stood, and I 
asked again, “ I am to remain here under your 
charge?’’ and Sweyn nodded assent. 

“May I quit this room?” 

There was an emphatic no,” and he made as 
though turning a key in the lock to show I was 
prisoner. 

“ You are my gaoler, then? ’* 

Once more he signified assent, a kindly look 
in his bright blue eyes. 

“ A more courteous one than the last, I war- 
rant, yet I love not to be cooped within walls. And 


224 KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

for how long? That I suppose you can not 
tell?" 

Sweyn made a motion as of one riding with 
whip and spur, until I cried, ‘‘I see, I see; until 
the coming of your lord," and once more I guessed 
aright. At least I thought I did, and felt relieved; 
it was some jest of Sir Bevis after all. He would 
soon appear with his merry companions, and we 
should ride forth together. 

The thought of this brought Ela to my mind 
again. Could I not send word to her of what 
had chanced to me? Drawing money from my 
pouch I offered it to Sweyn if he would find a 
messenger. But he would not hear of it, making 
me plainly understand it was not to be done. Nei- 
ther did he take my money nor despoil me of a 
penny, by which I plainly saw the varlet was obey- 
ing orders. 

After Sweyn left me the hours passed but slow- 
ly. I discovered a harp in one corner of the room, 
and for a time diverted myself by playing and sing- 
ing; but I soon grew weary, and was glad to see 
the dumb giant come back that I might strive to 
talk with him. But when Sweyn found what I 
would be at it pleased him not so well, and he 
showed me a better way to pass the time. He 
fetched up a chequered board, and a set of figures 
for the game of chess, and we fell to play. I re- 
member, I thought it would be an easy task to beat 
a thrall, nay, never before had I met one who knew 
the game. But Sweyn proved more than my match. 


IN THE TOWER. 


225 


True, in the end I generally came off victor, but I 
have often thought since it was because the big 
fellow willed it so to keep me in good-humour. 

Three long days I passed thus, sometimes strain- 
ing my ^ears for sounds from without, sometimes 
striving to extract information from Sweyn. He 
would bear with me for a while, though I know he 
ill-liked so much questioning; then with a smile on 
the great mouth that almost cut his face in twain, 
he would bring forward the chess-board. And all 
the time I fared of the best until I began to loathe 
the good food, longing rather for a crust of bread 
and liberty. A drink from some clear brook, with 
the blue sky above and the green turf below, would 
have tasted far better than the choice wine Sweyn 
supplied me with so bountifully. 

But on the fourth day, some two hours before 
noon, as near as I could guess, a change came; 
I caught the sound of horses’ hoofs in the court- 
yard. It was not much, just a clink or two against 
the stones, and I made sure it must be some one 
riding in advance of Sir Bevis, surely a messenger 
with a word for me. I was too impatient to sit still, 
and paced restlessly to and fro, expecting every 
moment that Sweyn would come. But instead of 
hastening, it was past his usual time before he ap- 
peared, and even then it was only to bring in my 
food and hurry out again, taking no notice what- 
ever of my eager questions. I was disappointed, 
yet I did not lose hope; that the newcomer, who- 
ever it might be, concerned me in some way I felt 


226 the knight of the golden chain. 

certain. And I was not wrong, though would to 
Heaven it had been otherwise; for when dusk fell, 
and Sweyn had been and gone again making up 
the fire, adjusting another candle, putting finger to 
lip the while to bid me not speak — the door opened 
yet once more, and the Countess Adela, richly ar- 
rayed in bright-coloured garments, stood upon the 
threshold. She regarded my astonishment with a 
smile half mocking, half tender, and said in low, 
soft tones: 

“ Sweyn tells me you are aweary of your prison. 
Sir Alain; that you find the time hang long upon 
your hands. Therefore have I come to keep you 
company.” 

I answered nothing, the words would not come. 
I stood staring at her, pondering in my troubled 
brain what this might mean. 

“ Have you grown dumb also like to your 
gaoler? Have you no welcome for me at all?” 
Then as I still spoke not — she was not welcome 
and I would have her know it— she said reproach- 
fully: “You have ill manners, sir; I have ridden 
far to do you a service and you give me no word 
of greeting, are too churlish even to bid me sit.” 

This recalled me somewhat to myself, and with 
a muttered word for pardon I drew forward the 
best chair, placed a footstool hard by, then stood 
awaiting her pleasure. As to her tale of doing me 
a service, I did not believe it one whit, neither would 
I ask her meaning. 

Y’et such was my 


weariness of seeing none but 


IN THE TOWER. 


227 


the dumb man, that when presently she fell to talk, 
telling me of the king, and of my friends, and the 
latest news from the field, her soft voice fell on my 
ears like sweet music, my sullenness gradually 
melted away. She spoke not of Ela by name, yet 
gave me to understand that all was well with her, 
and that she knew Sir Bevis had sent for me. This 
was a lie like all the rest of it, but that I had yet 
to find out. The Countess was careful to say no 
word that could offend me, and with winning ways 
and beguiling speech did she so work upon my 
weakness, that when at length she rose to depart, 
saying she had stayed over long already, almost was 
I sorry to let her go. And she saw it, and staying 
her foot at the door, where Sweyn stood torch in 
hand to light her down, said with a little laugh: 

Will you invite me to come again. Sir Alain, 
or do you prefer Sweyn’s company to mine? ’’ 

“ It is not for me to invite,’' I returned, bending 
knee to the ground, “ I could not presume so far. 
The castle is yours to come and go as you will, I 
a poor captive at your pleasure.” 

“ Yet have I seen many a captive worse lodged,” 
and she looked around. “ And your fare — if you 
have aught to complain of it shall be amended.” 

“ It would ill become me to complain, nothing 
is lacking save ” 

“ Save a friend for company,” she interrupted, 
taking the word from my lips. I will have pity 
upon you. Sir Alain. I will be your friend, I will 
return.” 


228 the knight of the golden chain. 

But I would have my say and went on as if she 
had not spoken. 

Nothing is lacking to me save liberty. If you 
would indeed be my friend, noble Countess, grant 
this boon, bring me to speech with Sir Bevis.’’ For 
when I had asked of him before she had put me by. 
She would not say if he were near, if I were to go 
to him or he to come to me, or wherefore I was 
kept in hold. 

The lady’s face darkened as I had seen it once 
before, but she was too sure of me now to lose her 
temper. 

‘‘ You are ungrateful. Sir Alain,” she answered 
languidly, gathering her robe together to descend 
the stair. I have talked enough for once, I am 
VvTary of prating to amuse you.” 

“ Yet tell me one thing,” and I fell on my knees 
and clasped her dress. “ Will Sir Bevis come to 
me in truth? ” 

Something, I know not what, a turn of the head, 
a flash of the deep blue eyes, some trifle I can not 
explain, made me think for a moment that maybe 
Sir Bevis had not sent for me at all, that I was 
prisoner to the Countess. Yet it passed again with 
her next words, and I thought myself a fool for 
imagining it. She looked me full in the face, a 
strange smile playing about her lips. 

“ A little patience, Sir Alain, a little patience,” 
she said, “ and truly I think my brother will comie. 
Nay, my life upon it, I vow by my life he will come 
shortly.” 


IN THE TOWER. 


229 


Her words came back to me after; she vowed 
by her life, and her life it was — truly, I care not to 
think of it. 

To-morrow, Sir Alain,” she went on, '' we will 
speak of this again ; ” and she extended her hand in 
farewell. I raised it to my lips as in duty bound, 
and at last she departed; nor did I remember until- 
some time after she had not once spoken of the 
service she had ridden so far to do me. 

My prison room seemed emptier after the Lady 
Adela was gone, yet methought I breathed the 
freer; and presently, finding a fine kerchief she had 
let fall, impregnated with some subtle essence from 
the East, in a sudden fit of rage I cast it upon the 
glowing embers, stamping it down with my heel. 
Big Sweyn came in and caught me in the act, and 
looked at me in reproachful fashion. The poor 
dumb giant was devoted to his mistress heart and 
soul ; it troubled him that I should seem thus to be- 
little her. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


THE COUNTESS ADELA. 

The Countess came not to me the next day, nor 
the next, neither did Sweyn give me any of his 
company. I had plenty of time to grow weary of 
solitude before the Lady Adela presented herself 
again. Then once more I was charmed against my 
will. It is marvellous what pains she took to be- 
guile me. But what boots it to harp so long on 
the same string, to tell the same tale again? Spite 
of my dislike, she soon gained such power over my 
weak will, that I became as wax in her hands, she 
could make me pleased or sad as she listed. I saw 
her daily, and the hours passed more swiftly in her 
presence; yet I cared not for her as she wished 
no, not for a single moment. At my very weakest 
I would have rejoiced never to see her more, for 
one short half-hour with Ela. 

To a certain point the Lady Adela had all power 
over me; beyond that she could go no further, and 
one day she overstepped the mark until there came 
hot words between us. Eorgetting her high sta- 
tion, casting away her womanhood, she pleaded 
boldly for my love, vowing that my unkindness was 
230 


THE COUNTESS ADELA. 


231 


killing her. And indeed it was truth that her 
cheeks were strangely flushed, her hands dry and 
burning, as with fever. The poor lady must not be 
blamed overmuch. From what followed after it is 
plain she was already distraught, past answering 
for herself. But I knew not that and spoke her 
harshly, bidding her remember how she had used 
me before, was it likely I could be fooled again? 

“ Would to Heaven you would choose some one 
else for your sport!'’ I cried with anger. ‘‘ I see 
not why you should make wagers upon me.” 

“ There was no wager, Alain, as any but you 
would have known. It was but a word on the spur 
of the moment because you would not give heed to 
me. Yet I bethought me afterward that perchance 
I had been too sudden, that you scarce apprehended 
the honour I designed you. Maybe, I thought, he 
repents even now, and by my silly talk of befooling 
I have driven him from me. I felt so sure it must 
be so, I caused you to be brought hither where 
we could have free converse, with none to inter- 
rupt us.” She paused, looking at me as if in ap- 
peal. 

“ I thank you for the honour, but I will have 
none of it,” I replied brusquely. Had it been Ayl- 
mer he would have put her aside with soft words 
and yet held his own, but the scene irked me. I 
wanted her gone. 

You will not wed me? ” 

“ I can not.” And I turned on my heel. 

‘‘Yet men say that I am fair.” 


232 the knight of the golden chain, 

“ Only one woman in the world is fair to me/’ 
I returned, unmoved. 

She threw back her little head and her lips 
parted, showing her white teeth in angry menace. 

Have a care, you witless fool, else may it go ill 
with you. All is not quite so simple as you seem to 
think. I hold you like this.” She opened and 
closed her hand. '' Honoured knight or recreant 
knave, men shall call you as I list.” 

I give not my honour into your hands,” I 
began scornfully, but she stayed me with a spiteful 
laugh. 

“ You give not, no, yet have I taken it. You 
are my prisoner, do you understand — mine, mine. 
Sir Bevis knows not that you are here. I took his 
ring by subterfuge. If he come back and find you 
missing, men will say you broke your word. Ah, 
have I touched you there, false knight?” (My 
countenance changed as I saw what a trap she had 
set for me.) “ Yet so it will be unless I undo it. 
I told them naught at the court, not one word — 
why should I? When men marvelled that you 
came not from the chase I marvelled also, then to 
spite the black-visaged maid I said I had seen you 
in close converse with a fair dame. Was it not so? 
Had we not been together? Then men marvelled 
no longer but laughed and turned aside. I wot you 
are no better than your fellows.” 

She paused as if for answer but I made her 
none, and kept my countenance well as I could lest 
she should see how her speech troubled me. 


THE COUNTESS ADELA. 


233 


“ Had you fallen in with my will/’ she con- 
tinued, seeing I meant not to speak, all would 
have gone well, I would have made it known as if 
my .brother had summoned you. But think you I 
will let you go free now? ” Her voice rose almost 
to a scream. “ Let you go free to boast how I sued 
to you, to make a mock of me with your dark love? 
That will I never, you shall die first. This castle is 
mine, the varlets are mine, and here shall you re- 
main. Not in this my own bower, which I had 
made ready for you, but deep down in dungeon 
hold with dumb Sweyn for gaoler; there shall you 
stay until your bones rot. Your fame in the dust, 
your name a byeword, what think you of that, 
proud Sir Alain? As I can love, so I can hate, and 
I vow I will not spare you. Will you change these 
quarters for a dungeon?” 

“ Ay, gladly, so it free me from your company,” 
I rejoined cruelly, instead of soothing her and seek- 
ing to escape by cunning. It only made me the 
more incensed to find how easily she had tricked 
me, how completely I was in her power. 

The Countess darted forward, and struck me on 
the face with such right good will that my cheek 
tingled again. She would have repeated the blow, 
snatching the knife from her girdle, only I caught 
her arm until her passion should be past. Then she 
fell to weeping dolorously, her face flushing in 
strange fashion red and white, her breath coming 
in short, deep gasps. At length, finding I made 
no motion to comfort her, that I seemed not to 


234 KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

heed her at all, she rose up and called aloud for 
Sweyn. He answered at once, opening the door 
with such celerity I fear he must have been listen- 
ing outside. 

As she left, the Lady Adela, her tears now dried, 
turned to say with mocking laugh, Sleep well. Sir 
Alain, and fair dreams to you. Another night and 
you may not lodge so well. It will be your turn to 
call upon me soon; but I know not that I shall 
answer. Sleep well and dream of her you love. 
Long ere you meet again she will have found a 
husband.’’ And with that parting scoff she was 
gone. The door closed. I heard the key turned, 
there was a bolt let down; I was faster in ward than 
before. 

And now did I begin to bend my thoughts to- 
ward escape. If I were not prisoner to Sir Bevis 
my word did not hold; it behooved me to get free 
before worse came. By standing upon the table I 
could touch the windows easily, but the walls were 
too thick, the openings too narrow, I could scarce 
reach them with my hands. I could not, even 
though I broke the sheet of horn, bring my head 
near enough the aperture to see below. I tried the 
door next, but as I expected it was closed too fast; 
I might have forced it open before, but not now. 
I could see no way save to offer bribe to Sweyn 
who had used me so well, a plan that failed lament- 
ably. Soon as he came in the morning I tempted 
him all I could, and when he heeded me not I 
threatened him with the anger of Sir Bevis. I 


THE COUNTESS ADELA. 


235 


might have spared my breath ; the dumb giant cared 
for no one in the world but his mistress, and this 
he contrived to let me know — I was more apt now 
at understanding his signs and gestures. He left 
me, and I waited all the remainder of that day, ex- 
pecting every hour to be hauled forth and taken to 
dungeon. And I planned again how, feigning sub- 
mission, I would go forth as it were, willingly, then 
suddenly endeavour to break away. Better die 
with my back to the wall, I thought, than pine 
again in dungeon hold. 

But night came yet once more, and there was no 
change; I was still undisturbed. The Countess 
would scarce have relented ; maybe the hold was not 
ready, perchance a smith was needed to strengthen 
the chains. I felt it but a respite, my fate was but 
delayed. 

Two more days passed thus ; big Sweyn brought 
me food and wood as usual, but his face was dark 
and gloomy; he paid no heed when I sought to 
speak, and departed always in haste. I thought it 
was anger because I had striven to tempt him to 
betray his mistress, but I know now that he was in 
sore trouble. His absorption gave me a new idea. 
Whilst he was busied about his duties, could I not 
slip through the door which he left only on the 
latch, and drop the bolt so that he could not over- 
take me. I knew not who else might be in the 
tower, but I feared none save Sweyn. He I knew 
would be too strong for me. So I made ready, pre- 
tending even to be sleeping when he entered in the 


236 the knight of the golden chain. 

early morn, then whilst he knelt on the hearth, his 
head bent down blowing up the embers, I made a 
rush for the door. I was quick, but big Sweyn 
was quicker still. He had no time to rise, but that 
mattered not to him; rolling his great bulk across 
the floor, he stretched forth one long arm, caught 
my foot, and I fell headlong. I thrust at him with 
my knife. He wrenched it from me, then threw me 
aloft, caught* me as I fell, and swung me backwards 
and forwards, as if about to dash my brains out 
against the wall. My struggles affected him no 
more than if I had been a child. After thus show- 
ing what he could do an he would, he deposited me, 
breathless but unhurt, upon a bench; I had not 
even a bruise. Then with grim, reproachful look 
he surveyed me for a short space, and turned on his 
heel and departed. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


THE FATE OF THE COUNTESS. 

My attempt at escape had certainly been un- 
fortunate, and I remained all the rest of that day 
covered with shame at my ignominious defeat and 
vowing vengeance upon the Countess. Sweyn took 
his own revenge. Next time he came he opened 
the door but a chink, thrust in his basket, and left 
me to tend myself. He served me thus twice or 
thrice, then for a whole day he came not at all, and 
I wondered if it were some new device to starve me 
into submission. 

But toward evening, as I sat in the dusk, no 
light and no fire, the door opened violently and 
Sweyn rushed in, making signs for me to come. 
His looks were wild, the torch shook in his hand so 
that I drew back from him. He would not have 
been so moved were it only to take me to dungeon ; 
it was some trick of the Countess again. 

“ Art come to put me in hold? '' I cried; but he 
shook his head vehemently. 

Then it is your mistress? ” He signed assent. 

“ She has sent for me; you are to 4:ake me to 
her? ” 


237 


238 the knight of the golden chain. 

He nodded again, at the same time pulling my 
arm as if to bid me come quickly. 

Then will I not stir one step,” I said with de- 
cision. “ I have had overmuch of her company al- 
ready; ” and I sat down again resolved not to move. 

Sweyn looked at me as if in despair, then sud- 
denly he flung his torch upon the hearth, caught me 
in his arms, and carried me, kicking and struggling, 
down the stairs. A story lower he paused and set 
me on my feet, holding me fast all the time. I had 
ceased to struggle ; it was useless, and but made me 
feel my helplessness the more. I suffered him to 
drag me where he would. The woman should see 
that I was brought to her presence by force. As 
it chanced, however, I might have spared myself the 
indignity. 

Sweyn held me with one hand as he opened a 
low door and we stood within a little antechamber. 
He bent his head here and listened, and there came 
sounds as of one talking fast without a pause, save 
only for bursts of unmeaning laughter. It was a 
woman's voice, yet a stranger’s. The thought came 
to me there was another with the Countess, and I 
felt glad. Then we passed on into the inner room, 
where I saw that which made me start in affright. 
It was the Lady Adela who was speaking after all, 
yet was she so terribly changed that at first sight 
I scarce knew her. She was lying half-dressed 
upon a bed, her eyes deep sunk in her head and 
glowing like burning coals, her face a strange 
leaden hue frightful to look upon. Of all her mar- 


THE FATE OF THE COUNTESS. 239 

vellous beauty not one trace remained, save the 
yellow hair strewn over the pillow. And withal she 
moved her head incessantly to and fro, ceasing not 
to speak wild words in a strange, hoarse voice, 
breaking now and again into laughter. A woman 
thrall was by her side — Sweyn’s wife I found pres- 
ently — who ever and anon wiped the foam from the 
poor lady’s lips, or strove to give her to drink. 

I was too horror-stricken at first to speak, and, 
forgetting his infirmity, looked at Sweyn for ex- 
planation. At once he cast himself at my feet, and 
with extended hands as if beseeching me to grant 
some petition, made dreadful inarticulate noises in 
his throat, tears streaming down his cheeks the 
while. The woman came forward and placed her 
hand upon his shoulder. 

“ He is begging you to have compassion upon 
his mistress, my lord. He thinks maybe you can 
help her.” 

“ Alas, poor lady, I can do naught,” I said. 
“ What is it that has befallen her?” 

“It is the black fever, my lord; it has been 
much about of late, and my lady must have caught 
it on the way. She will die; there is no help for 
it. I have tended more than one in the same dis- 
order.” 

“ But has no leech been to her? Is she all alone 
here save for you two? ” 

“ There are none save us and the warder, a 
feeble old man past work who can scarce ope the 
gate. My mistress brought a woman with her, but 


240 the knight of the golden chain. 

soon as the sickness declared itself the faithless 
wench fled shrieking. She may have footed it to 
Lincoln by now for aught I know. And my lady 
would have no leech. She charged us straitly to 
send for no man ; she would have none to know she 
was here. I gave her healing drinks made from 
herbs gathered at full of the moon, and she thought 
it would soon pass. Besides, of late we durst not 
leave her for a moment. See there now!” With 
an exceeding loud cry the distraught Countess 
sought to fling herself to the floor. 

Sweyn rushed to her side and held her down, 
making at the same time wild signs to me I could 
m nowise understand. 

“ He would have you speak to her, my lord,” 
the woman interpreted. “ He has a strange notion 
your voice might give her rest. He would have 
sought you before but I would not have it; it is but 
an idle fancy, as I told him. Nevertheless, when 
but now my poor mistress grew more unquiet even 
than before, he would have his way. If my lord 
would speak to her but once — she would not heed, 
she is past it — yet might Sweyn be content.” 

I leant over and spoke some words to the sick 
Countess, though what I said I scarce could tell 
you. At first there was no difference, and the wom- 
an looked as if to say, I told you so; ” but Sweyn 
signed to me to keep on, and presently there came 
a change. The fierce paroxysm gradually abated, 
the head turned less restlessly to and fro, the eyes 
met mine with something almost of meaning in 


THE FATE OF THE COUNTESS. 


241 


their gaze. But all too soon my speech came to an 
end, words failed me, try as I would I could say 
nothing. Then at once she grew unquiet again, 
and began to laugh and cry and cast herself about 
so that there was some ado to hold her. On her 
ceasing a little to struggle, Sweyn rushed away, but 
almost before I missed him he was back again, 
bringing the harp from my room whereon I had 
played to the Countess when she visited me. He 
thrust it now into my hands, signing me to use it, 
and I harped and sang full soft and low, the poor 
lady becoming calmer every minute. At last, when 
some time had passed, the tired eyelids closed; she 
was asleep. 

“ If she sleep, she may do well,” I whispered to 
the woman, still touching the strings lightly. 

She shook her head. 

“ It is but for a space. The fever has too fast 
hold. Naught now can save her.” 

“ Then where is the priest? Would you suffer 
her soul to perish as well as her body?” and I 
looked at Sweyn in anger. It seemed a shameful 
thing this noble lady should be left to die thus with 
only mean thralls about her. 

The dumb man stretched forth his hands to me 
with more of those frightful sounds, and again did 
his wife read his meaning. 

“ Sweyn has feared to leave his sick mistress 
only to me, but if my lord will stand by her until 
his return he will take word to Sir Bevis and the 
priest.” 


242 the knight of THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

“ Sir Bevis, is he near at hand?'’ I cried with a 
great feeling of relief. 

Sweyn nodded. 

“ Then go you for him with all speed. Bring 
him and a holy father both, and I will stay until 
your return. I give you my word for it, I will not 
leave her.” 

Sweyn made as though he would kiss my feet, 
and next moment was gone. In no very long 
space I heard his horse in the courtyard, heard the 
gate open and close again. No need bid the faith- 
ful servant hasten; I wished only he were a lighter 
weight that his horse might carry him the faster. 

Now' that I was thus left in charge I bade the 
woman throw the doors wide, and opened the case- 
ment in the outer room myself, that sweet air might 
enter. Spices were already burning in a chafing- 
dish, and the place was filled with their fragrance; 
but over all there hung a clammy, fetid odour plain- 
ly to be discerned. I was not feared of the fever; 
if it were Heaven’s will that I should have it naught 
could prevent; if otherwise naught could hurt me; 
but I was sad at heart for the unfortunate Countess. 
As I beheld her in such grievous condition, her fresh 
beauty all withered, her low, sweet voice changed 
to harsh mutterings, I repented me I had felt such 
hot anger against her. I would have taken back 
my hard words if I could. 

The Lady Adela’s sleep lasted not long. Pres- 
ently the fever came back, and by times she grew 
distraught, and, calling for her palfrey, strove to 


THE FATE OF THE COUNTESS. 243 

rise. But even at the worst I had power to soothe 
her. She knew me not, but the sound of my harp 
never failed, and, sitting in the outer room that my 
voice might come the softer, all night long I played 
and sang. 

It was thus Sir Bevis found me, when in the 
grey dawn he came riding in alone, having in his 
haste outstripped all his attendants. For Sir Bevis 
loved his sister with exceeding great love; there 
had ever been the closest attachment between 
them. I feared the knight would marvel how I 
came to be at such work, and doubted how he 
would take it; but soon as we were alone I found 
he had learned the truth on the way. From long 
use Sweyn was able to make his lord understand 
almost as if he had speech, and he told him how be 
brought me to the tower, and what had come of it. 
But now at the first. Sir Bevis had thought only 
for his sister, and, motioning me to play on, he 
passed into the inner room. He was out again 
almost directly, his face white, his limbs shaking as 
if with the ague. 

“ I can not look upon her,” he muttered hoarse- 
ly, his eyes wide-staring with terror. It is not 
Adela, not my beautiful sister; some devil surely 
must have bewitched her.” 

Hiding his face in his hands, he fell to bitter 
weeping. I could say naught to comfort him, for 
tears came to my eyes also, and there was a choking 
in my throat, so that I could not sing; but I kept 
the harp going, and the sound of it still calmed her. 


244 KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

We waited for a time, scarce a word passing 
between us, until S>veyn arrived with leech and 
priest, and in the bustle of their entering I stole 
away, and went back to my old quarters, not know- 
ing what else to do with myself. But first I hailed 
one I found waiting outside — there were plenty of 
men about the place now the knight’s train had 
come — and bade him bring me meat and drink, for 
I was faint with hunger. I ate and was refreshed, 
and some hours later, hard upon noon it must have 
been, Sir Bevis came to me. 

Weary of waiting I had fallen asleep, and he 
shook me roughly, saying, as I jumped to my feet, 
“ I have been seeking you everywhere. I guessed 
not she had lodged you here; truly your captivity 
has been made easy.” Then regarding me with a 
look of surprise not unmingled with contempt, 
“ You are brave in field, I know, though not 
more than scores of other men; but in lady’s bower 
I see not that you shine. I marvel she wasted a 
glance upon you.” 

“ Not more than I do,” I cried with such fer- 
vour, that had he not been so sad he must have 
laughed. And in truth, Bevis, I give you my 
word for it, never did I in any way seek to gain her 
favour.” 

‘‘ And for that very reason did she seek to win 
you. It was ever thus with my poor sister. Cross 
but her will, and never would she rest content until 
she had her way. Had you wooed her as the 
others, all would have been well. She would have 


THE FATE OF THE COUNTESS. 245 

flouted you speedily. And she was not fair enough 
for you? ” 

“ A man can love but one/’ I answered shortly. 

I am not with you there. I have a fair maid 
whom I love passing well, yet can I find room in 
my heart for many others. But it is best so; you 
were not of rank to wed her ; there would have 
been trouble. My poor sister is sunk into a stu- 
por now, which will last, they say, until she die ; 
yet did her senses come back for a time when 
the leech let blood and relieved her. She has 
seen the priest, and made her peace with Heav- 
en, for which the saints be praised. Also did 
she speak somewhat with me, and confirmed the 
tale of Sweyn. She had used you but ill, she said, 
and prayed you would have the grace to forgive 
her.” 

‘‘ I forgive her with all my heart, poor lady,” I 
cried quickly, “ and grieve sorely for her fate. Nay, 
I know not that I have anything to forgive; she 
was not to blame at all; it was the sickness; she 
was distraught.” 

Maybe. Yet I care not men should know 
what has passed. Therefore when we have eaten 
together — Sweyn told me but now he was so hard 
beset all yesterday he could bring you no food — 
you shall ride forth a free man. I will trust to 
your word to send the ransom. No need for you 
to go back to Lincoln. I will give it out you have 
been with me from the first.” 

No man shall hear of the matter from me,” I 


246 the knight of the golden chain. 


answered. But there is one in the city I would 
fain take leave of before I depart.'' 

“ You mean your maid, would you take the 
fever to her?" he cried with anger. “You may 
have it upon you even now, or it may be on me; " 
and he shuddered, violently. “ You are my man. 
You must do as I bid. I will not have you go to 
Lincoln." 

Well I knew his fear was not for Ela, but lest 
my tongue should wag. Yet was there sense in his 
words. It was hard to leave my little maid with- 
out farewell, we were not likely to meet again for 
a word long. Then there came to me the Lady 
Adela's discoloured face, her piteous sighs and 
groans. Should such evil come to Ela through me, 
we were undone indeed. Never could I forgive 
myself. Therefore did I consent to the knight's 
desire, the more willingly as I called to mind Gun- 
dulf. Most like I should meet the messengers with 
my ransom on the way. I doubted not he would 
be with them, and he would do my errand to Ela. 

All fell out exactly as I had forecast. I rode 
forth, two of Sir Bevis's men accompanying me 
as my following, and we had scarce started on the 
second day's journey when I met my friends, Gun- 
dulf among them as I expected. Blithe were we 
to meet again. He did my errand gladly, and Ela 
knew at last that all was well with me. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


I BECOME LORD OF BRIABOIS. 

The next event that befell after my return was 
the departure of Prince Henry, who was sent for 
by his father, the Count of Anjou. We were loth 
to lose the youth, for he gave promise even then of 
the mighty king he was afterwards to become, and 
we little guessed that uncle and nephew would not 
meet again. A few months later and the great Earl 
fell grievously sick of a fever, and yielded his last 
breath in the good city of Gloucester. 

It was the worst disaster possible for the Em- 
press, the heaviest stroke that could have been dealt 
her. Wise and valiant, true-hearted and faithful to 
his word as was none other, a greater man has Eng- 
land yet to see. 

We bore him to his burial at Bristol with tears 
and bitter lamentations, and truly of all men I had 
cause to grieve the most. I had lost my best friend. 
If he had been my father he could not have used 
me more kindly, and as for a father I mourned 
for him. 

Even the Empress was broken down at last, 
though not for an instant did she yield her rights, 

247 


248 the knight of the golden chain. 

Sad at heart she quitted England, returning to her 
duchy of Normandy to wait for better times. And 
I followed in her train. Downcast and gloomy 
were we all, I not the least because of Ela. I knew 
not when we might meet again. 

When I had been in Normandy for some 
months I entered the service of Prince Henry, the 
Empress at the same time bestowing upon me a 
small estate. She gave it, she was pleased to say, 
for love of her good brother. It had ever been his 
wish that she should thus reward me. Thus even 
after his death did I owe to the great Earl my ad- 
vancement. 

Now touching this same fief— a lordship of no 
great extent compared with some, though to me it 
was much indeed — thereby hangs a strange tale in 
which was the hand of Heaven marvellously shown. 
It had fallen into the hands of the Empress through 
rebellion of Gerald, the lord, who, joining the King 
of France, had turned his arms against his liege 
lady. Thereupon his lands and goods had been 
confiscated, and his castle of Briabois and the lands 
adjacent bestowed upon me. He had been but a 
far kinsman of the former lord, who died early, 
with none to succeed save an infant child, who 
came to an untimely end through falling in the 
river. Upon that Gerald stepped in as of right, 
and did homage for the land as next of kin. 
Nigh upon a score years had passed since then, 
and no man had ever gainsaid his right to be- 
lord of Briabois. Had not his ill-fortune tempted 


I BECOME LORD OF BRIABOIS. 249 

him to rebel, the truth might never have trans- 
pired. 

Quite a year elapsed before I was formally in- 
vested with my lordship, which took place at Rou- 
en, where the Empress had her court. As I held 
the fief direct from her, she conveyed the lands to 
me herself by delivery of a wand, whilst I did hom- 
age before her and the young prince. There was a 
feast after, at which we all made merry, and next 
morning I rode forth, my small train behind me, 
to take possession. Who so proud as I when the 
turrets came into view, and I saw for the first time 
the fair domain of which I was the lord. The castle 
was of no great size, but exceeding strong, perched 
on a rocky height, with the river on one side wash- 
ing the walls. Around the base were clustered a 
number of huts, whose inhabitants, my vassals all, 
received me somewhat gloomily. Gerald had been 
but a harsh lord, exacting his dues to the utter- 
most; yet better the evil you know than the evil 
you fear. They were used to him. They knew his 
ways. I was a stranger from over-sea. They were 
troubled at having a new master. 

Their apprehensions were somewhat allayed the 
next day, when on the chief men assembling to take 
the oaths I spake them fair, promising if they gave 
me good service to make their burdens lighter. 
When all this had been set in order — remembering 
the vow I made whilst in the dungeon of Ranulf the 
Wolf, ever to be merciful to poor prisoners — I made 
strict inquiries what men might be in hold, com- 
17 


250 the knight of the golden chain. 

manding all to be brought before me. Gundulf 
with right good will saw to this, and made sure 
none were overlooked. Happily there were but 
few, all, save one, villeins undergoing punishment 
for withholding their dues. These I set free, with 
a warning to be careful in future; the remaining 
prisoner was more difficult to deal with. He had 
been found apart from the others, shut in an inner 
cell, bound hand and foot with heavy fetters, and 
those who kept the dungeons professed not to know 
his offence or whence he came. The old warder 
was dead; they had not long been in charge; they 
knew nothing, save that he was dumb, for never 
once he had spoken to them. 

I looked at the man curiously. There was 
something about him seemed familiar; yet when I 
looked closer it faded away. So pitiful a wretch I 
had never encountered. Bent almost double — 
either from age or the weight of his chains — his 
long locks, caked and matted with dirt, had inter- 
mingled with his beard until his protruding eyes 
and swollen nose peered forth from a forest of hair, 
so that he looked scarce human. He sat dazed and 
motionless, just as they had put him down, the 
only signs of life the restless motions of his claw- 
like hands, the blinking eyes unable to bear the 
light. Yet when food was brought he clutched at 
it ravenously, gulping down all they gave him like 
a famished wolf. 

“Here is no dumb man,” cried Gundulf; “he 
has his tongue as much as you or I ; it is but grown 


I BECOME LORD OF BRIABOIS. 


251 


rusty with disuse. Give him into my care, my 
lord; I warrant in no long time I will have some- 
thing out of him.’"’ 

I let it be as Gundulf said. A few days later 
there came a sudden summons from the prince to 
join him in the field, and I had to depart in haste. 
Before I left, however, I gave orders for the poor 
wretch to be well tended until I should return. 

It was close upon six months before I saw Bria- 
bois again, and at first there was so much to set in 
order, I did not remember the old prisoner. Then 
one morning, as I was riding home after business 
afield, something brought him to my mind, and I 
asked Gundulf how he fared. 

“ Indifferent well, my lord,” was the reply. 
‘‘ He has found his speech, as I knew he would, 
but his legs will never serve again. He has to 
hobble upon two sticks. 

'' And what account does he give of himself? ” 

“ He will say nothing, but vows he has been in 
cell so long he has forgot his name and country, 
or why he was put there. It is a wise varlet, I 
warrant you. Soon as his wits came back he asked 
concerning the one who had been lord before, and 
when he found he was but banished, then quoth 
he shrewdly, ‘ It is only the dead who never come 
back; perchance one day he may be lord again.’” 

You think it is because of that he holds his 
tongue? ” 

It would be a good reason, my lord, seeing 
that he is crippled, and unable to get away. It 


252 the knight of the golden chain. 

might move his old master to have compassion 
upon him. Maybe if you spoke him yourself, he 
would have more confidence, that is if you care 
enough about the matter to pursue it. The old fel- 
low — old Peter they call him — wants for nothing. 
The warder’s wife has him in charge, and she is a 
kind soul.” 

I will see him. I am curious,” I answered. 
“ I would know why he was used so hardly.” 

“ Then yonder he is. He hobbles out always 
at this time to sit in the sun. The warder’s little 
maid is with him.” And as Gundulf spoke I saw 
the old man seated upon a bench, his sticks beside 
him, a child playing about his feet. 

He did not notice us. We had been riding upon 
the soft sward; besides, I doubt not he had grown 
dull of hearing. Now that the fellow’s head had 
been trimmed and his beard shaven, he appeared 
not so very old after all, though his hair was snow- 
white and his form bent and shrunken. As I drew 
rein and watched, I knew the man, knew him well, 
though had it been to save my life I could put no 
name to him. It was the white hair that so 
changed the knave from my remembrance. Had 
it been black as the sloe, as before, I had recognised 
him on the instant. It was a simple thing that 
presently revealed the truth to me. The little 
maid, a child of some four or five years, placed a 
ball in her playfellow’s hands, and he set to throw- 
ing it up and down to pleasure her. Then in a 
flash I knew. The hands were feeble and shaking, 


I BECOME LORD OF BRIABOIS. 


253 


but they still retained some of their old deftness; 
it was none other than Jocellus, he who had so 
treacherously betrayed me — he who held the secret 
of Ela’s birth. 

I started involuntarily, and my horse taking it 
as a signal to move on, the jongleur looked up and 
saw me. He threw back his hood to bare his head, 
clutched his sticks, and tottered to his feet, then 
humbly craving pardon for lack of power to kneel, 
tried to thank me for my grace. I cut short his 
thanks, but halted to ask some questions, watching 
him hard the while to see if he would know me. 
But no, there was not a sign of it. Truly it would 
have been difficult, I think, to -recognise me in my 
present trim for the rough, unkempt boy who had 
burst upon him on the waste, and harped afterwards 
at his bidding. I said nothing more then, and rode 
on until I reached the courtyard, only presently I 
bade them bring the old man to me in my private 
chamber. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE LADY ALIONORA. 

The jongleur was quaking when they brought 
him in, fearing he knew not what; but I spake him 
softly, and Gundulf brought a cup of wine; Jo- 
cellus was ever the easier to manage when thus put 
in good humour. Then sitting me down I ques- 
tioned him concerning his past life, and soon found 
that his old cunning had not deserted him. He 
answered me so fairly, with such simple protestings, 
such piteous shakings of the head, that had I not 
known better I must have believed him. His name 
was Peter, it was so they called him, and truly he 
knew no other. He would tell my lord if he could 
— Heaven knows my lord had been good to him — 
belike the dungeon had taken his wits away, for 
strove he his hardest he could remember naught. 
He said much more than this, speaking many 
words, as if he had nothing to conceal, and I let 
him ramble on until he tired. When he paused at 
length, giving me one sharp glance to make sure 
all was well, for notwithstanding his sufferings his 
eyes had not lost their keenness, I returned with 
careless air: 

254 


THE LADY ALIONORA. 


255 


‘‘ It is a pity you know nothing else; had you 
committed no great offence you might have been 
restored to your friends.” 

'' I have no friends, gracious lord,” he inter- 
rupted quickly. “I am an old, old man; they 
must all be dead long since. If my lord will but 
grant me a little corner to end my days in, I will 
pray for him as long as breath lasts.” 

I waved him aside as if I cared not to be inter- 
rupted, and went on. ‘‘ Perchance we may find out 
something even yet. I once knew a holy palmer 
who had learned strange things in the East, and he 
taught me somewhat of his lore. Stretch forth 
your hand, old man. Maybe if I look upon it 
some of your life will be revealed to me.” 

He dared not refuse, though I could see he was 
exceeding loth, and, gripping his unwilling fingers 
fast in mine, I bent low so he could not scan my 
face. Now that I was so close to him he might 
remember too much, and I had no mind he should 
know me before the time. There was a broad 
scar, the mark of some old wound, right across the 
palm, and pointing to it, I said in slow, hushed 
tones, '' That shows itself to me as deep water, 
it is in a strange land over-sea I have to seek 
you.” 

He started, and would have drawn his hand 
back, but I held him firmly, gazing on for a time 
without speaking. Then I began again: 

“It is difficult, it comes and goes so oft; it 
must be that you were ever moving, never staying 


256 the knight of the golden chain. 

long in one place. There is music too, and danc- 
ing — couldst have been a reveller, a frequenter of 
light taverns? Keep still, I pray you. Ah, now it 
is coming clearer, the marks shape themselves into 
letters; it is your name. Is it John? No, it is 
longer — Joseph. Stay, I have it — Jocellus. And 
you are playing with balls, there are others with 
pipe and harp, and a little maid dancing. Nay, 
why do you pull your hand away, man, do not you 
want to know your history?’’ And happening to 
look up I became aware of Gundulf peering over 
my shoulder into the fellow’s empty palm, his 
mouth wide open in amaze. He fell back directly, 
regarding me almost with fear, so much did my 
utterances astonish him. 

As for Jocellus, his terror was pitiable. He 
was shaking in every limb, and thought me the 
devil himself. But I durst not spare him — the var- 
let was too full of deceit; and I went on: 

“ Give me your hand again, I have yet to learn 
what brought you hither.” 

“No, I will have no more of it,” he answered 
roughly. “ It is not lawful to practise the Black 
Art.” 

“ It is but White magic, my friend, not Black. 
Did I not tell you I learned it from a holy man? 
Needs must that I know all, else were my task 
ill-done — unless maybe your memory has some- 
what returned, then you can tell me of your- 
self.” 

Finding I was thus determined, he answered. 


THE LADY ALIONORA. 


257 


though it was with some sullenness, Methinks my 
wits do feel clearer now. I mind me my name was 
Jocellus, and by trade I was a jongleur.” 

“ What brought you in yon dungeon, can you 
tell me that?” I asked. I would not be too fast 
to speak what I really wanted lest he should grow 
suspicious. Then, seeing he was in no hurry to re- 
ply, but sat with troubled eyes gazing upon the 
ground, I added sternly, '‘The truth, mind; make 
up no tale. You must know by now that only the 
truth will serve.” 

" And if I tell you the truth, and Gerald of Bria- 
bois come to hear, he will tear me limb from limb. 
I hold a secret of his. It was but for fear I should 
speak he used me ill. Times were hard and I came 
to him for help; he thrust me into dungeon. But 
if I must ” 

" Stay,” I interrupted, for Gerald’s secrets were 
naught to me. “ Speak not of your lord’s matters, 
I care not for them ; tell me rather of the little maid 
I saw in your hand, she who danced so blithely, I 
would fain know more concerning her. She was 
no kin to you that I could see. Whence came she, 
who gave her into your hands?” 

He glared at me angrily. " What use bid me 
hold my peace, then ask me again in another 
fashion? ” 

Had Ela been there she would have guessed the 
man’s meaning in a twinkling; all would have been 
plain to her; I was simple as ever, and thought he 
was putting me by. 


258 the knight of the golden chain. 

“ Dare not to play with me,” I cried. Tell me 
of the dancing maid, and that right quickly.” 

Then he fell to trembling again. “ My lord, be 
merciful to me, for right well do I see you know 
the whole story. The child stood between Gerald 
and the lands, yet did he fear to kill it lest the in- 
nocent blood should drag his soul down to hell, 
so he made appear the little one was drowned and 
gave her to me instead.” 

I was so startled I could not keep my counte- 
nance, but jumping to my feet walked to and fro. 
This was a revelation indeed. That Ela was of 
noble birth I had felt sure always; but that she 
should be of the line of Briabois — that it was her 
land I should be holding now — her inheritance that 
had been bestowed upon me, was most marvellous. 
After a space I returned to my seat and continued 
calmly as I could: 

“ Then this girl-child whom you made dance 
to your pipe, whom you called your slave, was truly 
heiress to this castle of Briabois?” 

“ I said not I called her slave,” he muttered un- 
easily, eyeing me again askance. 

“ Ay, but you did, and beat her cruelly too by 
times. And Gerald gave you money for carrying 
her off. Gave he aught else — any jewel, any 
chain? ” 

“ No jewel, but the child had a chain about her 
neck, though Gerald, I wot, knew nothing of it. I 
kept it long, meaning that one day the maid should 
have it back, but it was basely stolen from me.” 


THE LADY ALIONORA. 


259 

Not so, it was but taken by the rightful owner. 
What became of the maid?’' 

‘‘ Dread sir, I know not. As I hope for mercy 
I swear I know not whether she be alive or dead; 
know naught of what hath chanced to her. She 
was taken from me by one I had befriended, a youth 
I found starving on the waste and took into my 
company.” 

‘‘ And afterwards betrayed to his enemies for 
money. I hoped they trounced you well when 
they found him missing.” 

Forgetting his useless limbs Jocellus made as 
though he would rise, then fell back helpless, his 
eyes wide staring with terror. 

“ An thou art not the devil, thou art next door 
to him; I would pray thee on my knees to let 
me go.” 

Not the devil, good Jocellus, it is your weak 
memory still plays you false. Look at me now, 
look closely, say, have you never seen me before?” 

He gazed with all his might, puzzled even as I 
had been, then remembering the balls, I raised my 
hands as twanging a harp, and softly hummed one 
of my old tunes. 

“ By St. Nicholas it is the lad himself! It is I 
have been the fool, he has been playing upon me as 
he listed.” And remembering his past treachery 
he was afraid again, and putting his quaking hands 
together cried, ‘‘ My lord, have mercy, have mercy, 
I beg of you, for truly I have been sore punished.” 

Ay, I think you have had your deserts, good 


26 o the knight of the golden chain. 

Jocellus, and therefore fear nothing from me. Nay, 
more, if you tell your tale before those to whom I 
will bring you — tell of Gerald’s treachery to the 
little maid, I mean — I will have a care of you for 
the rest of your days. No need to fear Gerald’s 
vengeance.” 

“ Will you swear that? ” 

“ Ay, by St. Edmund the martyr, my own pa- 
tron saint, who helped me escape the trap you so 
cunningly set for me.” 

“ Then, my lord, I will be your man, you shall 
do with me as you will. Gerald of Briabois dealt 
with me hardly indeed, though had you not tricked 
me into speech I had never betrayed him. I feared 
he might come back. But truly I owe him noth- 
ing; I will avow his misdeeds before all.” 

As soon as I could possibly arrange my affairs, 
I had Jocellus carried to where Prince Henry held 
his court, and made him tell his tale. Then, after- 
ward, I told him I knew of the maid myself, and 
how that she was betrothed to me. There were 
some few who cast doubt upon the story ; men who 
envied me my new possessions and affected to be- 
lieve it was but a device to ensure my fief in case 
Gerald should be pardoned. But even here Heaven 
willed that all should be made clear, for a short 
tim.e after Gerald himself was taken prisoner. He 
was grievously wounded and like to die; therefore 
did he confess the truth of Jocellus’s words. When 
I showed him the chain I still wore on my helm, 
he knew it for part of one brought from the holy 


THE LADY ALIONORA. 


261 


city of Jerusalem by Ela’s father. The other half 
he had pledged with a Jew, whose name he told me, 
from whom I afterward redeemed it. He died 
soon after, repenting much of all his wickedness, 
and I prayed, as Ela would have bidden me, that 
Heaven would have mercy upon his sinful soul. 

When the matter had thus been brought to an 
ending, and the little maid’s lineage established be- 
yond doubt, I prayed my lord, whose ward she had 
now become, to confirm her to me as my bride, and 
send me across the sea to fetch her. I knew not 
whether Dame Joan were alive or no, but she could 
no longer say me nay when I came to restore the 
damsel her inheritance. 

Henry bestowed the Lady Alionora — for such, 
was now the little maid’s title, though to me she 
would ever be Ela — upon me readily enough, but 
he ever found some excuse to keep me by him. 

At length there began to be made great prepara- 
tion for the prince to cross the sea in order to seek 
knighthood at the hands of his uncle David, King 
of Scots, and thereafter perhaps to invade England. 
When I new of this I became exceeding impatient; 
for should war break out again, I feared, spite of 
our betrothal, Ela would be lost to me, and I 
pressed my suit with such vigour that, at last the 
Prince Henry gave heed. Messengers were sent 
to England to announce the maiden’s true birth, 
and to demand a safe conduct for her betrothed 
lord. 

Having succeeded so far, I gathered my follow- 


262 the knight of the golden chain. 

ing, making as brave a show of them as I could 
as befitted a bridegroom about to meet his bride — 
and we rode to the seaport of St. Vallery ready to 
embark the instant the messengers should return. 
But weeks passed and still they came not; my feet 
grew tired of pacing the strand. Meanwhile, news 
of Henry’s project began to be noised abroad; once 
King Stephen came to hear of it, small hope would 
there be for me. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


A BAD DREAM. 

The messengers still delayed, and I was already 
half-minded to risk my fate alone, when there hap- 
pened something which decided me. I dreamed 
that Ela was in dire peril and calling to me for 
help; I saw her plainly as I see those standing be- 
fore me now. There was a look of terror upon her 
face, her hands were outstretched in supplication, 
and I woke up to her cry of ‘'Alain! Alain!’’ 
Aylmer would fain persuade me it was because my 
mind was so filled with her. Surely it is better to 
think with me it was a warning sent by Heaven in 
answer to the maid’s prayers. For Ela truly was 
in peril, as you will presently hear, and I had some 
share in her deliverance. 

That strange dream decided me to start at once, 
and as soon as it was light I went down to the shore 
to make inquiries about the shipping. There was 
but one vessel starting that day, a small boat laden 
with merchandise, and at first the mariners would 
not consent to take me; they had no room for pas- 
sengers, they were overladen already. But it w^s 
so borne in upon me I must not delay, that I bribed 

263 


264 the knight of the golden chain. 

them with a goodly sum, until at length they agreed 
to carry two of us; provided we came as we stood, 
without horses or baggage. 

I left command of my train with my chief squire, 
a youth of quick parts whom I could trust to keep 
counsel, giving him orders to let no man know I 
had gone on. I chose Gundulf for companion as 
ever, and before embarking I laid aside all sign of 
my rank, meaning to pass as a common soldier. 
If I rode without disguise I should soon be clapped 
in hold until the king’s pleasure was known, or at 
the least held to ransom. But in the disturbed state 
of the country two plain men might easily pass 
without much questioning, and it would go hard if 
we could not make up a tale. My purpose was to 
ride to Aylmer with all speed, thinking I should 
find him with the king, where also would be Ela. 
It was so long since I had heard from them I knew 
not what might be doing, but doubted not that my 
brother would make all right for me. 

We had a much better passage than the mari- 
ners expected; for although the sea was exceeding 
high, threatening at times to overwhelm us, the 
wind was in our favour and blew us along bravely. 
They said we had brought them good luck, and 
made much of us. Gundulf, who was hearty as a 
mariner, took his turn at the oars from the begin- 
ning, as had been agreed upon ere we started, and 
I had my share as soon as I had won through the 
strange sickness that so oft falls upon men at sea. 
It lasted not long this time, however, for which I 


A BAD DREAM. 


265 


was not sorry; and soon as I could sit upright I 
helped pull with good-will, for did not every stroke 
carry us nearer to England? Glad at heart was 
I when the white cliffs slowly rose to view, and 
after a few more hours of toil we were beneath 
them. 

At my desire the mariners landed us some little 
distance from the port whither they were bound. I 
wanted it not known that we came from over-sea, 
lest men should be curious about our errand. So 
the boat pulled in at a lone spot, so near to land as 
they durst, and we waded to shore knee-deep in 
water, climbing over slippery stones where the 
treacherous seaweed more than once sent us head- 
long. It was early morning when we landed, and, 
after sitting awhile upon the sand for the sun to 
dry our garments, we climbed the cliff and struck 
inland. We knew little of the country, the mar- 
iners had been bound farther east than the port of 
Wareham where I had embarked before, and the 
place at first was strange to us. 

To continue our journey two things were need- 
ful: to obtain horses with all speed, and to discover 
where King Stephen was holding his court. For 
this purpose we halted at the first village where was 
a tavern, and after calling for victual, Gundulf — 
who now took the lead, I keeping in the back- 
ground the better to escape observation — set to 
work warily, making a hard bargain as if money 
were scarce with us. We obtained better beasts 
than we had hoped for, albeit they were somewhat 
18 


266 the knight of the golden chain. 

ungainly to look at; but we could hear no word of 
the king’s movements — the village was too remote. 
By the time our business was completed dusk was 
well upon us, so we made no further that night, 
but shared a bundle of straw with some country 
fellows — a welcome change after the late heaving 
and tossing. We were up betimes and on our way 
again, and made a good day’s journey; riding ever 
north, and picking up what news he could on the 
road. 

We learned at last that the king was at North- 
ampton, and thither we directed our steps, giving 
out — now we had left the sea behind — that we were 
followers of Sir Aylmer of Totinge, riding on busi- 
ness for our lord. Our horses carried us so well 
that we came within a day’s ride of the city much 
sooner than expected, when something befell that 
changed our destination. 

We had halted at a small tavern to rest the 
beasts, having ridden them hard since daybreak, 
and after seeing to their needs we went within and 
called for meat. Adjoining the tavern was a smithy, 
and as we sat eating there rode up some half-dozen 
horsemen, shouting loudly for the smith to mend 
a shoe. At once there gathered a little crowd to 
learn the news — there be ever idle villeins around 
a tavern wasting their lord’s time — and Gundulf 
slipped forth among them to hear what was going. 
I kept fast to my seat, my back toward the door, 
for now we were so near the court I feared to 
chance upon some who might know me. I was 


A BAD DREAM. 


267 


alone in the room, every man had gone forth, when 
suddenly there arose a great commotion; the door 
was burst open and a horseman strode in pushing 
Gundulf before him at point of sword. 

“ Where hides the other varlet who dares to say 
he serves my lord of Totinge?’’ he was crying at 
the top of his voice, when Gundulf slipped aside and 
we came face to face. His sword fell, his mouth 
opened so wide I feared his jaws would crack; 
scarce could he believe his eyes. It was Aylmer’s 
squire, one with whom I had spoken oft. 

“ My lord — I pray — I did not know — I ” he 

began to stammer, when I stayed him in a hurry. 

No need to tell all the world, fool,” I cried 
sharply. Turn these out,” for the room was fill- 
ing with men expectant of a fray; “ I would speak 
with you alone.” 

He soon had them all gone, and setting Gundulf 
to keep the door, he gave me news concerning my 
brother, who was not at Northampton, but at 
Wodebrig. 

‘‘And what is he doing there?” I asked. “Is 
aught amiss with Earl Alberic? ” 

The squire stared at me again. “ How, you 
know not what has chanced — it is not my lord’s 
messenger that has brought you? I thought it a 
great wonder you should have come so soon.” 

“ I know nothing,” I cried; “ I sent messengers 
to crave a safe conduct, but they returned not and 
I grew weary, therefore it is I am here in secret 
hoping to get speech with my brother. Word from 


268 the knight of the golden chain. 

him I have not had this long time. Wherefore is 
he with Alberic?” 

Alberic is dead these two months, and Ray- 
mond his son is now Earl in his stead.'" 

“Heaven rest the old man’s soul; once he did 
well by me. But what does your lord at Wode- 
brig now, seeing that the burial must be long since 
past and over?” I persisted, for there was that in 
the squire’s manner showed me he was keeping 
something back. “ Is all well with Sir Aylmer, 
or is the Lady Ela?” — my thoughts flying to my 
dream. “ Speak quickly, I like not to be kept 
waiting.” 

“ Then blame me not if my tidings do not please 
you. Raymond hath carried off the Lady Ela by 
force, and my master is striving to regain her.” 

“Raymond hath carried off the Lady Ela!” I 
repeated stupidly, scarce understanding, the blow 
was so sudden. “ And what can the Lady Ela be 
to him, seeing that she is betrothed to me? I have 
not come too soon, methinks. Tell me all of it, tell 
me how it chanced.” 

The squire’s story, set down in few words, was 
that Raymond had set his mind on the maid for 
long, though whilst his father the Earl was alive 
he was forced somewhat to hide it. Unfortunately 
old Dame Joan — who also of late wa*s dead — had 
favoured him with all her power. Then Alberic 
died, Raymond was his own master, and on top of 
this came the tidings that the lady was of noble 
birth and her betrothed lord was coming to wed her. 


A BAD DREAM. 


269 


‘‘ Though SO young, Raymond is crafty as a 
fox,’' the squire went on, “ or else he has others to 
guide him. He made no sign to alarm my lord, 
who has been watching him for long, but remained 
quietly at Wodebrig, giving out he was mourning 
for his father. Yet all the time he was secretly 
working that your messengers should be delayed, 
and scheming to get the lady into his power. And 
three days agone he succeeded. On pretence of 
message from my lord Aylmer he lured the lady 
forth, and straightway carried her off to his castle 
at Wodebrig. He was well on the way before 
aught was known, and though we followed in hot 
pursuit he was safe within the walls before we could 
overtake him. He has sent out word he is using 
the lady with all honour, but means to keep her fast 
until she is his wife. My lord returned defiance, 
bidding him come forth and fight as became a 
knight, but Raymond answered that he should not 
stir until his lady Countess could grace the lists. 

“And what did my brother do then?” I cried. 

“ He has set him down before the castle, send- 
ing out far and near for help to besiege it — it is on 
that errand I am bound even now. 

“ But Raymond can not wed her; she is plight 
to me ! ” 

“ So my lord reminded him, and he laughed in 
our faces. Once the priest hath joined them, he 
cares naught, he said, to whom she plighted troth. 
The queen has promised to help us. She is sore 
wrath at her maid being stolen away ; but it is little 


270 the knight of the golden chain. 

she can do just now, all men are with the king. It 
is rumoured Henry of Normandy is making ready 
to land in the North, and Stephen is gathering 
forces to repel him. He quitted Northampton 
some days since and is marching upon York as fast 
as his men can move. My lord would be with him 
but for this.” 

“ And where left you my brother?” 

Before the castle of Wodebrig. He has set 
himself down before the gates and swears he will 
not stir until Raymond come forth to give him 
battle. If he can only gather men enough he will 
storm the walls.” 

How I lamented then that I had left my fol- 
lowing behind. With the king absent no one 
would have dared interfere with us, and I knew the 
castle so well I doubted not to surprise it. And 
Raymond, I knew him well also, remembered him 
as a headstrong boy, some three years older than 
myself; Alberic’s youngest and only living son, 
spoiled and indulged by his over-fond father. He 
had been chosen companion of the dead Baldwin, 
one of the loudest to clamour for revenge; it might 
even be some spice of malice against me was at 
bottom of his pursuit of Ela. Yet was he honour- 
able too in his way; if he said he would not harm 
the maid I believed him; she was safe from all but 
being forced to wed. Truly that was hard enough; 
Ela was not one to give in, but she was like to 
suffer sorely. Once the squire had told his tale I 
was on fire to get away, and, leaving him to con- 


A BAD DREAM. 


271 


tinue his journey and summon aid, I rode with 
Gundulf to Wodebrig as fast as our horses could 
gallop. When they could carry us no farther, we 
changed them for others and journeyed on with- 
out stopping, pausing not once for rest. 


CHAPTER XXXL 


MY BROTHERS SECRET. 

It was late at night when we arrived at Wode- 
brig. The moon had risen and the stars were shin- 
ing, yet we found Aylmer pacing to and fro, scarce 
a bowshot from the castle gates. A tent had been 
erected hard by, and at^ little distance was a fire, 
round which, wrapped in their cloaks, his men had 
disposed themselves to slumber. Aylmer marvelled 
much at seeing me, and I told him in short space 
how it chanced I had crossed the sea alone, and 
how I had fallen in with his squire. In turn I 
heard from him what I already knew, Aylmer 
blaming himself bitterly for having been so hood- 
winked. He was exceeding angry — angry on his 
own part, besides troubled for Ela. Never had I 
seen him so moved. 

“ The knave has fooled me all through,” he 
cried. “ I who thought myself so wise! I knew 
well he was ever working to turn the king against 
me; it was through him your messengers were sent 
away empty. You did well not to wait; Stephen 
will grant you no safe-conduct, and when I would 
have entreated him he turned his back. That was 
272 


MY BROTHER’S SECRET. 


273 


before the news of your duke’s expedition reached 
us. After that I could say no word on your be- 
half. You should have come sooner, brother.” 

“Ay, if it had only rested with me,” I groaned; 
“ but serve your lord faithfully as you will, little 
cares he what betides you. It was not until he 
was coming to fight for his own hand I got leave 
at the last.” 

“ We must keep your arrival secret, else short 
will be your shrift.” And then we fell to talking of 
what Aylmer had already done, and how he was 
at his wits’ end to compass Ela’s deliverance. He 
watched the castle night and day — Raymond had 
not men enough to drive him off — yet had he no 
chance of getting within ; the walls were too strong, 
the garrison too vigilant. 

Aylmer’s chief hope was that a certain baron of 
influence, one Hubert Fitz-Hugh, then leading his 
followers to join the king, might turn aside for a 
short space and help bring Raymond to reason. 

“ I did him good service once,” quoth Aylmer ; 
“ it is his turn to help me now, yet Heaven only 
knows if he will heed my call. Meantime” — and 
he clenched his fist fiercely — “ Ela’s heart may 
grow so faint with fear she may consent to wed 
him. It is for that I will not suffer a priest to 
enter, though twice has Raymond endeavoured to 
send for one. And they will give me no help at the 
convent. The Prior has gone to Rome on busi- 
ness of the Abbot, and Brother Ordric is acting 
in his stead. He bears us no goodwill, as you 


274 the knight of the golden chain. 

know of old, and they are loth to offend the new 
lord/^ 

“ Ela would not marry Raymond though fifty 
priests were there,'' I returned stoutly. “ She is 
not one to faint with fear. Had you seen her fac- 
ing death at Wherwell, choosing rather to perish 
by fire than trust to the mercy of the Flemish 
ruffians, you would have little doubt of Ela's firm- 
ness. And it is death she is looking on again, dear 
heart, for sure am I she will die before she give 
way to him. And she is all alone — no friendly 
voice to breathe a word of hope, no one to tell her 
that help is near." And in a flash my dream came 
back to me, I saw Ela’s look of terror, heard her 
supplicating cry. “ By St. Edmund there will come 
a day of reckoning between us, my young Earl ! " 
I cried, near choking with grief. “ Heaven only 
send it quickly!" And I shook my fist at the 
strong walls I knew so well which frowned down 
upon us through the gloom. 

Aylmer stood beside me, and when I turned 
there was that on his face stabbed me on the sud- 
den as with a knife. It came to me on the instant, 
without a question, without a doubt; he loved my 
little maid himself. He had forgotten almost that 
I was near; he knew not, knows not to this day, 
how his countenance betrayed him, how I surprised 
his secret. For a moment the earth seemed to sink 
from under me. Had I lost all — Ela, Aylmer, 
both; in the whole world there was nothing left to 
me? I stretched forth my hands gasping for 


MY BROTHER’S SECRET. 


275 


breath, stricken dumb with the greatness of my 
suffering. And Aylmer, so sharp of wit, so quick 
to perceive, saw nothing, guessed nothing; his 
whole mind was with Ela, he had not a thought for 
me. Then did my pain quickly turn to mad rage, 
and, falling upon him with wild words, I cried: 

“ If I had been here this had not happened. 
Yet it is you who were wont to be the wise one. 
Call to mind your old cunning; have you no plan 
at all? have your wits all deserted you? Did you 
not swear to watch over her, and has your care 
come only to this? ” 

Unjust reproaches truly, for Aylmer had done 
all that he could; he had shielded her from more 
than I knew. But in my unreason I recked not 
what I said. 

He shrank back without making any answer. 
I think he feared that had he spoken he might have 
said too much. But his silence only made me the 
more angry, and, meaning to hurt him all I could, 
to make sure to myself of what I already knew — 
though even in my madness I did not dare accuse 
him openly — I went on: 

It is because you thought light of her, maybe, 
because she had no name, her lineage was un- 
known, because she was no fit mate for one of the 
house of Totinge. That touches you? They are 
your words, not mine; you spoke them to me long 
ago. Ah, if you had but cared for her as I do ! ” 

“ Forbear, forbear! ” he cried, and the anguish 
in his voice should have stayed me. - But I was 


276 the knight of the golden chain. 

past pity. “ Or is it that you have played me false 
also? ” and striding forwards I raised my hand as if 
I would have struck him. 

My cruel words went home; for was I not hit- 
ting a wound already raw? His face blanched, 
then turned red as blood, and he flew at my throat 
with such a mighty cry that the men rose from 
their slumbers to look toward us. But before I 
could cast him ofif he loosed his hold himself, and 
fled away into the darkness. One of his Viking fits 
had overpowered him, and he had taken flight be- 
fore he did me an evil. 

And it was I who had brought about this thing, 
I, who when I needed help most, had quarrelled 
with my brother. For now my passion was passed 
I new well that Aylmer had been true to me. If 
he had learned to love my little maid it was no fault 
of his; of all the men in the world I, who knew 
her so well, had least cause to wonder. But that 
he had played me false, that he had spoken of his 
love by word or sign — thank Heaven my senses 
were come back to me— I doubted him no more. 
I would have sought his pardon with tears, but he 
had left me. It was too late, and I cast myself 
upon the ground lamenting bitterly. 

Then after as it seemed no very long space, a 
hand was laid upon my shoulder and Aylmer him- 
self stood beside me. 

“ Trouble not, Alain,” he said calmly, his fit all 
spent. “ I have been to blame, I should have 
taken better care of her. It was the truth in your 


MY BROTHER’S SECRET. 277 

words hit me so sorely, yet glad am I you spoke 
them.’’ 

‘‘ That am not I,” I returned quickly, ‘‘ but 
grievously ashamed and sorry.” 

“ Ay, I guessed that, and therefore have I come. 
If I am glad it is because you have showed at last 
we are of the same blood. You have always been 
so reasonable I have felt at times to doubt it. You 
were beside yourself ; no need to tell me that. 
Who should know it so well as I ? ” he added 
mournfully. And for a short time there was silence 
between us, only we sat hand in hand as when we 
w.ere children. 

•Then Aylmer continued, “And now, brother, 
we are at peace again, I will tell you of what came 
to me even now, whilst I strove with evil spirits in 
the darkness. If you are so sure Ela will not be 
prevailed upon to be his wife, it might be as well 
to let a priest go in with secret message how things 
stand with us. It would give her fresh heart to 
know you are near. Maybe even if we sent money, 
she might bribe her keepers. I have offered fair 
ransom already, but Raymond will have none of it.” 

“ Could you trust the priest to act on our be- 
half? ” I asked. 

“ Ay, if they sent Father Wilfrid, as would be 
most like; he is ever wishful to please the Prior. 
If some other came, I need not let him pass. What 
think you of the device?” 

“ It may serve until we can do better,” I an- 
swered sadly, for indeed it seemed but little; “yet 


278 the knight of the golden chain. 

would it be something only to hear how it fared 
with her.” 

“ Then I see not that we need wait; I will send 
for the father directly morning dawn. I was feared 
before lest it should bring about the marriage. 
Now I will to my post again; it irks Raymond to 
know I am ever on guard.” 

And we paced to and fro, side by side, until the 
long hours of night had passed and the chill dawn 
broke slowly about us. My heart grew full of pity 
for Aylmer; he suffered even as I did, yet could not 
show it. More, even were Ela free again she was 
not for him; no wonder that in the morning light 
his face looked old and worn, all youthful joy gone 
out of it. Yet even as she had drawn him in spite 
of himself, even as against his own will he had come 
to care for the maid, so now did he force his lips 
to speak of her unmoved. He strove to cheer me 
by telling how she had looked always for my return, 
how often they had conversed together of me. He 
dropped no word, showed no sign now that he felt 
for her other than as a sister; he meant to keep his 
secret to the end. 

You will think, perhaps, that seeing it was thus 
with my brother there would have come to me some 
doubt of Ela; and I will not deny that in the first 
shock of discovery, when all the world seemed reel- 
ing about me, such a thought might have come. 
Aylmer’s quick parts would suit her well. Little 
wonder had she grown to love him. But for all 
my dull wit I knew my little maid. I had but to 


MY BROTHER’S SECRET. 279 

think of her arms about my neck, her words 
breathed soft in my ear — she would not change her 
Brother Simple for all the world — and my mind 
was at rest again. Yet to think that both might 
lose her, that she was so near to us, and yet so far; 
truly it was enough to render a man beside himself. 
Glad was I when morning came and we were able 
to be up and doing. 

As luck would have it, whilst our men were yet 
preparing for their ride, a small boat pushed forth 
from the castle and was rowed across the moat. 
There were but two men in it — he who used the 
oars, and another who held up his hands to show 
he was unarmed. Aylmer went down to the bank 
to hear what they had to say, whilst I stood a little 
aloof mingled with his followers. It was not that 
I feared any at Wodebrig would recognise me after 
so many years, but in my hours of watching a plan 
had slowly shaped itself, and I wished not the mes- 
sengers to see me. 

They had come for a priest; Raymond was 
growing impatient. If we suffered not one to come, 
he sent word, he would do without. There was 
some little parleying, then Aylmer seemed reluc- 
tantly to yield. Horses were brought forth and the 
two men sent on their way, accompanied by a 
guard to see that they went only to the convent. 

“ If it is a priest you want, a priest you shall 
have,’' said Aylmer sternly. “ But if you seek to 
raise help for your lord either in the town or on 
the way, it will go hard with you.” And he sent 


28 o the knight of the golden chain. 

further a secret word of his own to Father Wilfrid, 
entreating he would be the one to come.’' 

As for me I cared not whether it were Wilfrid 
or another, so long as one came. Whosoever it 
might be I was minded to take his place and go 
into the castle myself. Once within, and with 
speech of Ela, it would go hard if I could not de- 
liver her. 

Soon as the messengers had departed I told my 
plan to Aylmer, and he liked it not at all. 

“ It means that Raymond will have two in his 
power instead of one,” he said. “ He will hold Ela 
just the same, and you will have to pay your whole 
estate to him for ransom.” 

'‘Trouble not for that; if he discover me short 
will be the shrift for one of us. There will be no 
talk of ransom.” And my mind was fixed. Noth- 
ing Aylmer said could dissuade me, so sure was I 
all would go well once I got word with Ela. 

“And if it be not Eather Wilfrid, what then?” 
he asked next. 

“ That must be your part. Whoever comes 
hither, I must be the one to go in.” 

“And what will you do when there?” 

“ I know not; it is no use making plans, I must 
act as comes to me.” 

Aylmer mused awhile. “ Pity you did not 
speak before; then could I have kept his men here 
and sent mine. The frock will not change your 
visage; they will tell soon enough you are not he 
they brought with them.” 


MY BROTHER’S SECRET. 


281 


I yawned and stretched my limbs. Now that 
my course was decided, my mind was more at ease 
and I began to feel full weary. I had had no rest 
since I learned the news. I had been riding hard 
for long hours, and busy all night quarrelling, 
watching, troubling concerning Ela; yet, since 
Raymond had grown so crafty, it behooved me 
have all my wits before embarking on my new ad- 
venture. So I returned short answer: 

“ That also I leave to you, my good brother. 
Sure am I you will be able to devise something. 
I mean now to take my rest until they return, lest 
hereafter Raymond should catch me napping.’' 

And with that I threw myself upon the ground 
and knew no more until Aylmer shook me by the 
shoulder, and his face was troubled. 

“ They have returned,” he said in a low tone, 
“ and it is not Wilfrid but a stranger monk late 
come from Bee on business to the convent. The 
good fathers are wise in their way.” He smiled 
sourly. “ If trouble come of the matter, they can 
disown him.” 

'‘From Bee, you say? Then fear not; they be 
all my good friends there. Bring him this way 
and keep the messengers at a distance. I doubt 
not he will serve us.” 

To understand why this should be you must 
know that when William the Norman bestowed the 
fief of Totinge upon my father’s father, he gave at 
the same time much land around to the Norman 
abbey of Bee. The monks made no great settle- 
19 


282 the knight of THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 

ment at Totinge, but we were ever good neigh- 
bours, and Prior Lanfranc, the king’s especial 
friend, who afterwards rose to be Archbishop of 
Canterbury, often sojourned with my father as his 
guest. Thus it came about that when I visited the 
abbey in train of Prince Henry, Alain of dotinge 
was welcomed ever as a friend. 

It was in Aylmer’s tent I had laid me down to 
sleep, and now, when he brought the monk, he 
dropped the curtain behind that none might see. 
It was Brother Francis, one who knew me well, 
and surprised indeed was he to see me. T. hey had 
told him nothing at the convent, save that he would 
do them a service by coming to Wodebrig, and the 
messengers had a barbarous tongue he could not 
understand. The monk gave close heed to our tale, 
and though he spoke not his mind I could see he 
was angered at being sent on such an errand with- 
out knowledge. 

“ It was the Sub-prior, Brother Ordric, spoke 
with me,” he said shortly. “ I trow the lord Abbot 
knew little of the m.atter.” And with that he was 
eager to go into the castle and threaten Raymond 
with ban of holy Church for his misdoings. But 
I would have none of that, and pleaded so earnestly 
I might have my way, that at last he consented. 
He gave me command only to make no pretence 
at any holy office. 

“ It is as a priest you are going,” he said sol- 
emnly; “make no mock of sacred things. 

I agreed willingly enough, then urged him 


MY BROTHER’S SECRET. 283 

make haste to give over his gown lest the messen- 
gers should grow suspicious, 

“ I am near your height and build, father; if 
you did not speak much they may not know the 
difference,’^ I said, as I girt his frock around me. 

‘‘ Have no fear, my son. That I was a stranger 
they knew from Brother Ordric; and the winds on 
the way were so shrewdly chill I kept my face well 
covered.” 

Draw your hood well down,” interrupted Ayl- 
mer. If it fall back and he see your unshorn 
head, all will be lost.” 

“ I will be careful, trust me,” I cried almost with 
glee, so glad was I at what was coming. “ I will 
be under a vow to keep my head ever bowed. It 
will be well for me too,” I muttered in Aylmer’s 
ear; ‘‘ for if I looked into his false face I might for- 
get, and fly at him too soon.” 

I felt beneath my gown to see my dagger was 
loose in sheath, then, dropping my hood and tight- 
ening the knotted cord about my waist, I was ready 
to set forth. 


CHAPTER XXXIL 


I PLAY THE PRIEST. 

Aylmer accompanied us to the boat, giving me 
command, in the men’s hearing, to treat for ran- 
som, and threatening the king’s wrath if the Earl 
did not accede. 

“ Tell my lord,” he cried loudly, that Fitz- 
Hugh is even now hasting to my side. If my sister 
be not set free before he arrives, heavy will be the 
Earl’s punishment.” 

And all this and more did I presently set forth, 
when with bowed head and folded hands I stood in 
hall before Earl Raymond. 

The old place was not changed one whit. Al- 
most could I have deemed I had been there but 
yesterday. There was the bench where I used to 
sit and quarrel with Baldwin — by some chance it 
had been overturned just as we left it that fatal 
morning. There was the perch whereon my fa- 
vourite hawk was wont to light — I could scarce 
keep from looking up, expecting to see him. Only 
at the head, where Alberic was wont to sit in serene 
dignity, the young Earl now strode to and fro with 
bent brow and moody face, seeming but ill at ease. 

284 


I PLAY THE PRIEST. 285 

He Started with an air of relief as we entered, 
crying : 

“ Art come at last then, sir priest. You have 
been long on the way. Who is it — Father Wilfrid? 
Nay, a stranger! How comes that?'’ And he 
looked at me suspiciously. 

I muttered something, I know not what; my 
wrath was so stirred by sight of him I could not 
trust myself at first to speak. Fortunately, my con- 
ductors intervened, relating what had taken place 
at the convent, and how a stranger monk, who 
spoke no Saxon, had been sent with them. 

It was plain enough they had no suspicion of 
the change. This gave me time to compose myself 
and to think of what I should say when my turn 
came. The Earl laughed somewhat, though there 
was little mirth in his tone. 

The good fathers would run with the stag and 
hunt with the hounds,” he said. They fear to an- 
ger me, yet if ill come of it, it is none of their do- 
ings. Ay, they be wise in their way, these holy 
men.” 

I stole one glance upwards while he was speak- 
ing. They were almost Aylmers words, and Ray- 
mond as a boy had not been thought so sharp. 
Yet, save that he was grown older, he seemed little 
changed. If I am not more altered, I thought to 
myself, surely he will remember me. But he gave 
no sign of it then; only when I began to speak, re- 
peating what Aylmer had commanded me, he stayed 
me once with: 


286 the knight of the golden chain. 

“ Have we not met before? Your voice has a 
familiar ring. Why keep your head so downcast? 

“ It is because of a vow, my son,’' I returned 
boldly. “ It is nearly fulfilled now; I doubt not 
thou wilt see my face before we part.” 

Such vows were too common to excite suspi- 
cion, and he said no more but heard my speech to 
the end. When he had finished, he made answer: 

“ Touching Sir Aylmer and his threats, you may 
tell him I care not one rush, neither will I yield the 
maid to ransom. Yet I wish her no harm. I 
would do her great honour and take her for 
my wife. It is for that I have sent for you this 
day.” 

“ How can that be, my son, when the knight 
yonder assures me the woman is already troth- 
plight to his brother? ” 

“ That is an old tale, it is naught. He is an ill 
fellow of the Anjou party, and he fights against the 
king. My lord of Winchester has promised me a 
dispensation; I can marry her when I will. And 
it is no use prating ” — as I was about to lift up my 
voice again — “ they may tear my walls down stone 
by stone, but I will still hold on to her. 

And I knew well he meant what he said, for 
Raymond was half Saxon, he had the doggedness 
of the race. Once his mind was fixed nor threats 
nor persuasion could move him, he heid stubbornly 
to his own way. 

If my lord the Bishop declare the woman free 
to marry, the knight has no power to gainsay thee, ’ 


I PLAY THE PRIEST. 28/ 

I forced my lips to speak. “But he told me also 
that the maid was unwilling.’' 

He laughed harshly. “Women are hard to 
please at times, but all goes well when they know 
their master. Willing or unwilling, she mates with 
me.” 

I held my hands tightly, else might 1 have 
fallen upon him and forced his masterful words 
down his throat. But compelling myself for Ela’s 
sake, I replied only: 

“ Perchance it is the old betrothal that is troub- 
ling the maid. If I could have some speech with 
her, she might open to me her mind.” 

“ Bring her to hear reason, good father, and 
rich shall be the gift you take home to your con- 
vent; women ever listen to the priest. I was much 
troubled but now because of her. I placed her 
among my women, treating her with all honour, 
and though she scorned and flouted me whenever 
I came near, at first all went well. But now they 
bring me word she refuses to eat, and will not be 
comforted.” 

“And how long has this been so?” I asked, 
striving hard that my voice should not tremble. 

“ Since yester morn, therefore was I so earnest 
you might come. “ But an she die ” — and he smote 
his fist upon the bench until the cups jumped again 
— “ I will yield her to none. Make her see that, 
sir priest, and it will be well.” 

“ I will do my best, my son, at least I can show 
her how it is a grievous sin to refuse good food; 


288 the knight of the golden chain. 

I doubt not I may induce her to eat. As for the 
other, we will see afterward. Best not come with 
me, she may listen more heedfully if you be not 
there.’' 

‘‘That may well be; she treats me with scant 
courtesy. Ho there, let the lady Ela know a holy 
father awaits her pleasure. If she give you not 
permission to enter, you must even go in without, 
as I do.” 

However, word was brought presently that the 
lady would see the holy father, provided that he 
came alone; she had no mind for the company of 
my lord the Earl. 

“ See you now,” said Raymond, with a wry face, 
“ You would scarce think the maid was my pris- 
oner; that she was in my power to deal with as 
I list.” 

I turned in silence, my heart beating so fast I 
could not speak, and followed his servants to the 
upper chamber which once had been his mother’s, 
where he held Ela in captivity. Two women were 
waiting for me here, and as they unbarred the door 
the elder poured into my ears a voluble discourse of 
the lady’s obstinacy, of her ill return to my lord’s 
gracious kindness. Her words came so quick I 
could not stay them, we were within the room ere 
she ceased. Ela was at the far end seated upon a 
low bench, her head resting against the bed as if 
she had no strength to sit upright. 

“Hast come to shrive me, good father?” she 
said faintly. “ If so, you are welcome indeed.” 


I PLAY THE PRIEST. 


289 


Not to shrive but to bid thee be of good cheer, 
daughter,'’ I returned, raising my hood for one half 
moment. 

Ela gave me one wild glance, half sprang to her 
feet, then sank back and fell to weeping as if her 
heart would break. 

The women looked at me startled. “ Dost bear 
a holy relic about thee, good father? For already 
hast thou wrought a marvel. It is the first time 
she has shed a tear, perchance her heart may now 
turn softer.” 

“ It is softer already,” cried Ela between her 
sobs. “ I have been to blame, I thought Heaven 
had abandoned me, and lo! you come as Heaven’s 
own messenger. Mind not these tears, good fa- 
ther — they will pass — I am not wont to be so weak. 

It is only ” and as I bent down and took her 

hand, she whispered low, “ Alain, dear Alain, I 
knew you would come; I feared only you might be 
too late.” 

I held her fast for a moment, making as though 
I would feel her wrist after the manner of a learned 
leech, then said aloud: 

“ The maid is weak and overwrought for lack 
of food. They told me below, daughter, you would 
not eat. It is a sin to be repented of. Will you 
take food now?” 

“ I will eat if you bid me, father; for truly, as I 
said, my heart is changed ; ” and she turned her face 
to the wall, lest the joy in her eyes should be- 
tray her. 


290 the knight of the golden chain. 

Straightway one of the women left us in all 
haste, but the elder remained behind watching us 
curiously. I moved a little aside lest she should 
suspect, and set her tongue going again by asking 
her a question. One word was enough; she 
started prating instantly, and never ceased until her 
fellow returned bearing the victuals. I now sat me 
down on a bench whilst Ela ate — taking, as was 
ever her wont, but delicate little snippets scarce 
enough to serve a mouse — and I turned over in my 
mind the while how best to get rid of the women. 

It was but trouble wasted, for presently word 
was brought that Earl Raymond would speak with 
me again, and I was compelled perforce to obey. 

Ela looked up in alarm — not for herself this 
time, but for me — and the cup she was holding 
dropped from her grasp so that the wine ran along 
the floor. 

Have a care, daughter, have a care,’’ I ex- 
claimed, and making a quick turn as if to avoid the 
spilt liquor, I whispered her not to fear, all would 
go well. 

I found Raymond in high good humour, and 
soon as I entered he pressed upon me a jewel which 
had once belonged to Alberic. 

'' Put this in your wallet, good father,” he cried; 
'' it is of price, yet but earnest of what I will give 
you hereafter. You have brought the maid to take 
food; it is well. Said I not that women ever give 
ear unto the priest? Now bring her to wed me of 
her own good will, and you shall load a mule with 


I PLAY THE PRIEST. 


291 


what I will bestow upon you. They are making 
ready in the chapel even now. I mean to have all 
done in order.’’ 

That may be a harder matter,” I began, and I 
must have spoken incautiously, for on the sudden 
he leant forward, trying hard to scan my face. I 
feared I was discovered, but forced myself to keep 
quiet, waiting in silence for what might come. 

“ It is strange,” he muttered, “ how well your 
speech seems known to me. You are from over- 
sea, they say. Where is your convent? ” 

I am an unworthy son of the abbey of Bee,” I 
replied, sent over with letters to my lord of St. 
Edmunds. I have come direct from across the sea 
even now. If you doubt me, let me go. Truth to 
tell, your work is not much to my mind.” 

“ I doubt you not, good father; it must be a 
trick of my fancy. You have done well so far, I 
pray you do not fail me now.” 

“ I will do my best, my son, but if the woman 
stay obstinate I dare not espouse her to you against 
her will, else might evil come to me afterwards.” 
This I said lest he should forthwith command the 
marriage ceremony. “ Peradventure, had I some 
talk with her alone she might heed more my 
words.” 

“You shall, you shall; and forget not what I 
have promised you. The women shall be called off ; 
you shall shrive the maid, and give her godly coun- 
sel. Fright her with the wrath of Holy Church 
if she listen not to your reasoning. It is a better 


292 the knight of the golden chain. 

way than thrusting on the ring by force, though if 
need be that shall be done. Ay, and evil will come 
to you here and now if you refuse to bind us. But 
I threaten not,’’ he added quickly — he had no wish 
to anger me — “ sure I am you will do your best. 
Speak cleverly to the maid, and all will go well I 
warrant me.” And presently I was once more con- 
ducted to Ela’s chamber, where after a short space 
the women left us. 

It needs not to set down our first joy, our for- 
getfulness of everything save that we were to- 
gether again. I will pass on to when we fell con- 
sidering what we were to do, how best to get out 
of Raymond’s clutches. But first I had to tell her 
how it was I had arrived so opportunely, and how 
Aylmer was encamped without. 

“ Ah, poor Aylmer, I knew he would be sore 
angered/’ she cried. “ He has ever been a good 
brother to me. It was his name they used to lure 
me forth after night had fallen. I thought he had 
news of you he was minded to impart secretly. 
Then a thick cloak was cast about my head, I was 
lifted to horse and brought here. Be not so moved, 
dear Alain, save for that the Earl has used me with 
gentleness. And at first I had little fear; I thought 
he would soon be compelled to release me. But 
later, when I found how well he had laid his plans, 
how he had waited until Aylmer’s friends had rid- 
den north, I began to lose heart, and trembled lest 
you should not come in time.” 

“ And to mend matters you would have starved 


I PLAY THE PRIEST. 


293 


like prisoner in dungeon hold/’ I said, touching her 
white cheek softly. “ Methinks for once you al- 
most changed places with Brother Simple.” 

It was when I thought upon you and what 
your grief would be, the food choked me. It was 
easier to die than to wed Raymond.” 

What we should have attempted in the end I 
know not; for even Ela could hit upon no plan that 
seemed likely to succeed. Fortunately for us in 
one way, the matter was taken out of our hands. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


I RESCUE ELA. 

The hour was waning fast. It was time we 
should be gone, and as yet we saw not our way. 

“ I much fear we have rejoiced too soon,” Ela 
said sadly. “You are in most peril now. Scant 
mercy would Raymond show you. 

“ Scant mercy indeed! ” exclaimed a voice close 
by, and Raymond himself stood in the doorway. 
He had stolen upon us unheard, and Ela’s hand 
was fast clasped in mine, her head resting against 
my shoulder. 

“ Your wise counsels took over long, false 
priest,” the Earl went on; “I feared your fair peni- 
tent would tire, therefore have I come to haste you. 
Nay, hang not head like a dog ” — I had bent down 
to whisper a word to Ela — “ methinks for once you 
must break vow, and let m^e see your face.” Then 
changing his mocking tone to a shout of thunder, 
he strode into the room with, “ Who art thou? No 
priest, I ween, but one come to flout me. It was 
not fancy that I knew your voice; would I had given 
heed to the warning. Who is it? Hold up your 
head; I would look upon your false perjured visage 
I beat you with stripes like a dog. 

294 


ere 


I RESCUE ELA. 295 

I jumped to my feet, and, throwing back my 
hood, confronted him. 

“ Look well, Raymond, though it is so long 
since we met, you may, perchance, have forgotten 
me. It is Alain of Totinge, your old comrade, he 
you would have robbed of his bride. I prayed last 
night that we might meet soon, and Heaven has 
been kind to me.’’ 

Raymond wasted no words. He was no cow- 
ard. He had left his sword below, but the knife 
was in his belt, and, drawing it, he sprang at me 
with fury. I closed with him full willingly, calling 
to Ela to hold the door lest help should come from 
without. 

We fought, for a time neither getting the better, 
until our blades clashed, and the dagger flew from 
his hand with such force it stuck quivering in 
the wall. 

Raymond started back. 

“ Would you slay me as you did my friend 
Baldwin?” he cried. “It is a way you. have, per- 
chance, to strike down unarmed men.” 

For all answer I threw my knife after his, and 
we set to again with naked hands. We were about 
matched in strength, but my gown clung about my 
limbs so that at first he had the advantage, and his 
eyes began to sparkle in triumph. Yet never for a 
moment did I doubt the issue, not even when his 
fingers tightened about my neck, and my breath 
came in pants and gasps. It was a warning from 
Heaven had brought me to Ela, Heaven would not 


296 the knight of the golden chain. 

forsake me now. Raymond had me down at last, 
and we rolled over whilst he strove with all his 
might to plant his knee upon my chest, so that he 
might crush the life out of me. Once when I was 
undermost I caught sight of Ela. The brave maid 
would utter no cry lest it should distract me, but 
she held my abandoned knife clasped fast to her 
breast — whether for herself or for Raymond she 
never afterwards would tell me. 

I came so near to being strangled the young 
Earl made sure he was the victor, but, gathering 
my remaining strength for one last effort, I gripped 
his head between my two hands, and banged it 
again and again upon the oaken boards, until he 
was near stunned. Even then his fingers did not 
leave my throat, I had to tear them off by force ere 
I was free. 

But I could not pursue my advantage, I was too 
far gone. I could only stagger to my feet, and 
wait until the breath came back. Raymond recov- 
ered sooner than I did, and, leaping up, plucked 
his knife from the wall, and thrust full at my 
heart. I had but just time to throw up my arm 
and jump but aside, so that it grazed my shoulder. 

‘‘Shame upon you!” cried Ela, springing for- 
wards to place my weapon in my hand. “ Who is 
striking the foul blow now?” 

He answered not, save with a look of rage, and 
we set to now more warily. Had it been sword 
or battleaxe we could have made better play, we 
were not skilled in fighting with the knife. It were 


I RESCUE ELA. 


297 


tedious to tell of every blow — pin-pricks most, for 
neither had chance to push home — it is enough 
that in the end I had him at my mercy, as I knew 
I should, and raised my arm to strike. But as he 
glanced up at me with bloodshot eyes and foaming 
mouth, disdaining to utter one cry for mercy, my 
heart softened. He had been my comrade; he was 
the son of Alberic, who once stood to me in place 
of my father. 

“ Yield thee,” I cried, ‘‘ rescue or no rescue.” 
But he answered fiercely, “ Kill me, if you will; I 
care not. I will never yield me to you.” 

Nay, hurt him not,” interposed Ela's soft voice. 
“ Bind him so that he can give no alarm, and let us 
steal forth quietly. See, here are the cords that 
were bound about me.” 

Raymond glanced toward her as she spoke with 
such a look of baffled longing, almost I was com- 
pelled to pity him. But I held him fast, and was 
making ready the thongs, when suddenly his tone 
changed. 

‘‘ You are the stronger, I will yield me,” he said 
sullenly; and at once I loosed my hold and helped 
him to rise. Yet was there a gleam in his eyes I 
liked not, and I stood on my guard prepared for 
treachery. 

And he foiled me after all ; I deemed not sworn 
knight could act so foully. Once upon his feet he 
gave a sharp glance round, as if to measure his 
distance, then springing upon Ela, felled her to the 
ground with one blow of his strong fist. 

20 


298 the knight of the golden chain. 

I yielded to thee; I said naught of the wom- 
an/’ he shouted. If she is not mine, I swear she 
shall never be yours; ” and he raised his booted foot 
to stamp upon her face. 

It was done so quickly there was scarce space 
to draw a breath. I sometimes wake from a dream 
of it even now. But Heaven was on our side. I 
hurled myself against him just in time, though it 
was so near a thing his iron heel cut her temple as 
he fell. It is scarcely to be seen save by those 
who know, but Ela carries the mark of that dastard- 
ly deed to this day. 

The caitiff would have found scant mercy now, 
had not Ela interfered again. Too dizzy to stand, 
swaying to and fro even as she knelt, the blood 
streaming from her forehead, she yet clung to my 
arm so that I could not strike, imploring me to 
have mercy. 

'‘Spare him, Alain; spare him yet once more,” 
she cried and entreated. " I am not hurt; it is but 
a scratch. See! ” She pushed back her dishev- 
elled hair. “ Remember, he spared me. If you 
kill him, sure am I you will be sorry after.” 

Her prayers prevailed and I gave way, but soon 
as Raymond saw my fury was assuaged he set to 
shouting loudly. It was the first time he had called 
for help since the struggle began. I soon stayed 
that, however, cramming into his mouth his own 
garments; then I tied him hand and foot so he 
could not stir. I was bleeding not a little myself 
by this time, but Ela bound up my hurts with strips 


I RESCUE ERA. 


299 


torn from the coverlet of the bed, and, tying a 
kerchief about her head, we were ready to depart if 
only the road might be clear. 

“ Remain you here and watch beside him,” I 
said, “ whilst I go and see who is below. If we 
have trouble, I will drag him forth with me. They 
dare not hinder us, I warrant you, if my dagger be 
at their lord’s throat.” 

It was in our favour that we needed not to go 
through the hall; for the chamber where Ela had 
been confined was approached by a flight of stone 
steps from without. Could we but descend to the 
courtyard unseen (the boat that brought me was 
moored beneath the walls) we should have but to 
pass the warder. It was fortunate that I went forth 
alone, for at the foot of the steps I met the two 
women just about to mount. 

“ My lord told us to wait in hall,” began the 
foremost, “ but now came Balso the groom, saying 
the Earl was crying out upon us.” 

“ He mistook, my lord called not for you,” I 
answered, speaking in no haste. “ He was rating 
the lady somewhat loudly. But all is well now; 
she has repented of her stubbornness, though, in- 
deed, it was hard at first to make her hear reason. 
I have come forth even now to know if all is ready. 

Quite ready, good father. The tapers are lit, 
the book set forth, there is wanting nothing but 
the priest.” 

‘‘Then must you gather all in chapel and hall 
ready for the bride when my lord leads her through. 


300 the knight of the golden chain. 

There will be a brave feast after, and the wine will 
flow.^’ 

“ And will the bride want no tiring? ’’ cried the 
chatterpate. “ I have a fair robe ready I could slip 
upon her in a trice.” 

“ Go to; being a woman may she not change 
her mind again? Think you my lord will give her 
time? Haste you to hall, let Balso the groom and 
every varlet be there. He who lingers will not 
share the feast. Such is my lord s will. See you 
to it without delay.” 

They needed no second bidding. Very speedily 
the courtyard was deserted, and I hurried back to 
fetch Ela. Spite of all Raymond had done, I found 
her binding up his hurts, even as she had bound 
mine, though it was with trouble because of his 
bonds. 

You would not leave him to bleed to death?” 
she said, in answer to my expostulations. “ It is 
punishment enough to be thus outwitted in his own 
castle.” 

“ We must leave him now, though. Come 
quickly, while there are none about. If the warder 
do not spy us too soon we shall escape easily.” 

“ If he see a woman in the boat, he will surely 
spy us too soon, and arrows will be flying. Give 
me the gown, and put you on Raymond’s mantle; 
they will take you for the Earl himself. I shall 
make a fair priest,” she added, as I hastily wrapped 
the gown, now sore rent and torn from the late 
strife, about her, though truly the skirts be some- 


I RESCUE ELA. 


301 


what long/^ And, indeed, they trailed on the 
ground near half a foot until she tucked them 
through the waist-cord. 

When Raymond saw us thus preparing to de- 
part his fury was terrible. He could not cry out, 
but his eyes told what was passing within, and, in 
spite of his bonds, he rocked backwards and for- 
wards,* striving to do himself an injury. 

“ Be comforted, Earl Raymond,’’ I said, ere I 
crossed the threshold. “ The maid is lost to you, 
yet have you gained life. Had ill come to her, had 
you wed her by force according to your purpose, 
nothing could have saved you from my vengeance. 
Husband your strength now, else you will have no 
breath left when presently you strive to overtake 
me. Here is your jewel of price,” and I threw it 
at his feet. “ Say not after that I robbed you.” 
And with that I shut the door fast and left him. 

Thanks to the women there was not one in the 
courtyard to spy us, and we made for the little 
postern without hindrance. Well I knew the way; 
oft had I stolen out after dusk and none had been 
the wiser. The key was in the lock now, the bolts 
undrawn just as it had been left on my arrival, and 
outside, moored almost underneath the drawbridge, 
lay the boat., 

I will take the oars,” whispered Ela. It 
would not do for my lord to row. I have handled 
them more than once with Jocellus. If I lack skill 
it matters not; they will but think the good father 
somewhat awkward.” 


302 the knight of the golden chain. 

With the oars in her hands, the monk’s hood 
falling over her face, Ela passed very well for the 
priest who had crossed before, whilst I sat with my 
face muffled in Raymond’s cloak. The warder had 
not yet seen us; he was in the gate tower watching 
the opposite shore, but as soon as we shot forth 
from beneath the walls we were in his ken. 

“ He sees us, Alain,” Ela muttered presently 
under her breath, “ and stays his steps. Shake the 
cloak out as if the wind took it. Ah, that is well; 
he thinks you are the Earl.” 

I dared not move, though I expected every 
moment that an arrow would follow us, but I 
bent forward as if speaking that I might shield her 
with my body. And Ela rowed steadily on, until 
she cried again: 

“ Now has he gone within to find out the mean- 
ing of it;” and, putting out all her little strength, 
with a few vigorous strokes she brought us to land, 
where Aylmer was awaiting us, his troop drawn up 
just beyond bowshot. He was more wise than the 
warder, and had guessed the truth soon as he saw 
us push off. Right glad was he to greet us both, 
though much I marvelled at his self-possession. 
For joy of her escape I had feared he might betray 
somewhat, but even Ela would never have guessed 
from his bearing what she was to him. Soon as 
Aylmer knew all that had chanced, he declared it 
best to seek safety in flight, lest the country should 
be roused upon me as the king’s enemy. He would 
not stay even to take down the tent, but rode off at 


I RESCUE ELA. 


303 


once with all speed. Father Francis accompanied 
us for part of the way, then turned aside for Totinge 
with a guide we gave him. I heard not afterwards 
that any ill came to him for his good deed. It may 
be that Raymond never knew the rights of it; all 
his anger was turned against St. Edmund’s. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


MY STORY ENDS. 

Our course now was toward the north, Aylmer 
to join the king at York, I to slip past for Carlisle, 
where I expected to find Henry of Anjou. I was 
feared at first that Aylmer might lose the king’s 
favour for his share in my adventure, but he made 
light of it. 

Raymond has always worked against me,” he 
said with a laugh. “ It will be no new thing for 
him to bring ill tales. I shall join the king as if 
nothing had chanced; he needs every man’s help, 
and will ask no questions.” 

Near the end of the second day’s journey we 
encountered Aylmer’s friend, Fitz-Hugh, riding 
with some half-score followers at his back to our 
assistance. He was proceeding leisurely, as if he 
had no great mind to the enterprise, and evidently 
relieved to find we had no need of him. He turned 
and rode with us. Though I marked he eyed me 
strangely, treating me with scant courtesy, I gave 
little heed; I was too much occupied with Ela. 
When we halted for the night I had to find her 
safe quarters, and women to attend her; it mattered 
not to me if Fitz-Hugh disliked my company. 

304 


MY STORY ENDS. 


305 


It was Gundulf who first discovered that mis- 
chief was brewing, and he carried his suspicions to 
Aylmer. I was so taken up with the lady, he told 
me afterwards, he feared I might not listen. The 
first I knew was in the dead of night, when Ayl- 
mer roused me from sound slumber. He had fin- 
ger on lip, for others were close around, and I fol- 
lowed him in all haste, fearing something was amiss 
with Ela. Soon we were out of ear-shot. 

You must mount and ride,'’ he said, leading 
the way through the darkness, “ else will Fitz— 
Hugh make you prisoner. He is my friend, but all 
is fair in war, and you are of the enemy. Gundulf 
brought me the first word, and soon I found it was 
true. Fitz-Hugh has sent in secret for the rest of 
his company — he has not men enough now if I 
resist him, and to-morrow they are to surround us 
on the way. This I learned some hours since, but 
I remembered your hurts and troubled you not 
until all was ready.” 

“And Ela?” I cried, stopping short. “I can 
not leave her again.” 

“ Be easy, she goes with you. She is waiting 
yonder, I have given you two men. More would 
but delay you, and you must ride night and day 
until in safety. One of them will serve as guide; 
he knows the by-roads well, and will keep you from 
running into danger.” 

And we came out upon an open space where 
was a little group of horsemen, Ela in the midst, my 
horse ready saddled and bridled by her side. 


3o6 the knight of the golden chain. 

One grasp of the hand, one “ Heaven speed you, 
sister,” from Aylmer, and we were off, and all that 
night we urged our beasts to the uttermost, avoid- 
ing ever the main track. The wounds received in 
my combat with Raymond vexed me much, and 
Ela’s head was still heavy from that cruel blow; 
but we dared not stay to rest, for every moment 
was precious. 

Space fails to tell the incidents of our headlong 
flight, save that once, hard by the city of York, we 
were near pounced upon by the king's men. By 
some means — surely thanks to my Lord Fitz-Hugh 
— they got wind of our coming, and scouts were 
sent out to intercept us. It was Ela who saved 
us here. The only road left open led direct to 
York, where the king was with his army. They 
had not thought we should make thither. Yet it 
was by that way we escaped. Our two followers 
were sent a different road to mislead those who 
were after us, whilst we, changing clothes with 
some country people carrying provisions into the 
city, passed unnoticed through the camp. It was 
Ela and Gundulf who managed it all. My hurts 
had brought a fever upon me. I rode as in a maze, 
now hot, now cold, and consumed ever by a parch- 
ing thirst. Yet had I sense enough left to refuse 
to halt so long as I could sit my horse. 

Beyond York the roads were open again, and 
we rode without let or hindrance. Neither had we 
to make so much haste, but halted until my fever 
should have left me. I was almost recovered when 


MY STORY ENDS. 


307 


at length we made our joyous entry into Carlisle. 

I found friends enough there, the Prince and all his 
train, all my old companions, and many I had 
known before when serving the Empress in Eng- 
land. I sent at once for my following, who were 
still waiting at St. Vallery, but long before they 
arrived Ela was my wife. Prince Henry himself be- 
stowing upon me my bride. 

My story draws to an end now. I have no 
space to tell how I served my lord in Normandy 
and Anjou. Then some four years later, the Em- 
press having bestowed upon him her rights, the 
Prince once more crossed the seas to claim his 
realm. All know how that attempt ended; how it 
was at last agreed upon at Wallingford that Ste- 
phen should be king as long as he lived, and that 
Henry should come after him. 

A short time after this treaty had been solemnly 
confirmed Prince Henry returned to Anjou to wait 
until the crown should be his own ; but by Aylmer’s 
desire, Ela and I abode for a time in England. I 
knew not at first that Aylmer had any purpose, save 
to wish our company, and we remained at Totinge 
hunting and hawking, and passing the time in 
pleasurable diversions. Never had I seen my broth- 
er so gay and light-hearted, and one day I said as 
much to him. 

It is because I am about to be wed,” he cried 
joyfully. One short week and we start for the 
espousals.” 

Then was I glad indeed; it showed he had quite 


3o8 the knight of the golden chain. 

overcome his passion for Ela. And yet I marvelled 
he had said no word of the matter. 

“ You have kept it secret indeed/’ I said. 

Were it not such good news I should be vexed 
with you. Why, I know not even the lady’s name.” 

“ Trouble not, brother, you shall hear all in 
good time. I have an old vow to keep before I 
wed. If you love me ask no questions; you will 
know all when we reach St. Edmund’s.” 

And there was that in his manner forced me to 
be content. 

Nor could Ela help me when I put to her some 
questions, though she seemed somewhat sad. 

I know nothing,” she answered. “ Aylmer 
has not confided in me, and it would not be fair to 
speak my thoughts. Let us wait as he bids us; be 
sure whatever he does it will be well.” 

No more was said then, but immediately after 
the holy feast of Christmas, when all men’s hearts 
are glad within them for the joy that has come to 
earth, we set forth upon our journey with a goodly 
following, Aylmer’s train and mine — a numerous 
company. As we drew near to the castle of Wode> 
brig I looked at Ela, who was riding close be- 
hind me. 

'' Sweet, I near lost you there,” I said softly, 
thinking of her dear head beneath Raymond’s foot; 
but she made answer only, “ Poor Raymond; we 
may not blame him now.” Eor the young Earl 
was not at Wodebrig. When Eustace, Stephen’s 
lawless son, had set upon and plundered the con- 


MY STORY ENDS. 


309 


vent of St. Edmund’s, Raymond had been among 
the foremost, wreaking, men said, some private 
grudge of his own. Eustace had died shortly after, 
but Raymond lost the king’s favour and was a ban- 
ished man. Later, when my lord Henry came to 
the throne, the young Earl made his peace, the past 
was forgotten, and he dwelt in amity with all of us. 

As it was Christmastide the convent was 
crammed with guests come to keep the feast. 
There was no room for us within the walls, and 
we had to take up our quarters in the little town, 
with many other noble knights and ladies. Only 
Aylmer was admitted without question, as if the 
monks had been expecting him, and we saw him 
no more until on the appointed day we met within 
the chapel. Never had I seen the place so full; 
for word had got abroad that something more than 
common was in doing. Yet looked I in vain for 
the bride and her friends; not a sign could I see 
of them. 

Then for the first time it came to me what Ayl- 
mer might intend. Only part of his design, how- 
ever; none but Ela, who knew his mind more than 
most — knew, indeed, more than I had thought — 
had any inkling of the rest. But it was too late 
for me to stay him now; he had laid his plans too 
well. And thus it came about we stood forth to- 
gether as when we were boys, and Aylmer, with 
hand upon the shrine as mine had been, told the 
true story of Baldwin’s death. But the people were 
not stirred one whit; nay, I saw one laugh and jog 


310 the knight of the golden chain. 

his neighbour's elbow, as if to say what a coil about 
nothing. All had happened so long ago Baldwin 
was clean forgotten. Alberic was dead, Milo Fitz- 
Henry was dead, the lad’s father had long since 
perished over-sea; of his kin not one remained. 
Then after a silence, seeing that no one spake, Ayl- 
mer raised his voice again: 

Do none among you cry for vengeance? Is 
there no man to ask Baldwin’s blood at my hands? ” 

And still there came no answer, and I was glad. 
I thought all was at an end. 

But Aylmer spoke yet once more. “ Then see- 
ing that no man condemns me, needs must that I 
condemn myself. Great is my sin and sore, for 
long has it burdened me grievously; now through 
Heaven’s mercy I find peace. My goods and my 
lands have I devised unto my brother, the holy 
monks of St. Edmund have consented to receive 
me among them. Henceforth is Aylmer of To- 
tinge dead; there is only Brother Bernard.” 

“ No, no! ” I cried, springing forward, but Ayl- 
mer caught my arm. 

'' Brother, would you keep me from Heaven’s 
peace? It is no hasty resolve, I have pondered it 
well. My mind has been set upon it for long, and 
I waited only until you could take my place. Sor- 
row not, Alain. Be merry rather; it is the day of 
my espousals, and I rejoice.” 

I could say no more and sank to my knees, cov- 
ering my face lest the unmanly tears should be 
spied. The monks struck up a joyful chant, and 


MY STORY ENDS. 


3II 

filed out two and two, carrying Aylmer with them; 
and the chapel emptied, and still I knelt on, lament- 
ing sore for my brother. For well I knew it was 
not only the slaying of Baldwin sent him there, but 
the love still in his heart for Ela. Nor did I move 
until Ela herself came to my side, and with her 
own eyes full of tears, led me away with loving 
words, striving to give me comfort. 

Yet after a time, when my first trouble was 
passed, I came to see that Aylmer, as usual, had 
acted in wise fashion. Besides that it brought peace 
unto his soul; he was happier serving Heaven than 
in the world. He had never taken pleasure in 
battle for its own sake as I did; he had fought only 
to serve his king, and a cloistered life suited him 
well. And Aylmer has since risen to high honour. 
When our uncle became lord Abbot, Brother Ber- 
nard was made Prior in his stead, and some day he 
may mount even higher. 

A few months after Aylmer entered the con- 
vent, Stephen died, and Henry of Anjou came to 
his own. He was crowned and consecrated king 
of England amid universal rejoicings, and thus — 
as saith a learned clerk, friend to Brother Bernard, 
whose words have aided me much in setting down 
this story — thus, through Heaven’s mercy, after a 
night of misery, peace dawned upon the realm of 
England. 


THE END. 



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